


Sugar Lips and Moving Hips

by Nerdoftheworld



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Disability, Eventual Romance, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mpreg, Omega Bucky Barnes, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Self-Hatred, Steve Rogers Has Issues, Vomiting, kid!Kate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-04-26 09:37:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4999822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nerdoftheworld/pseuds/Nerdoftheworld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky, a 22 year old college student, get his life changed in the worst and best ways one rainy night on his way home</p><p>(Or, the one where omega!Bucky gets a Sugar Daddy without really meaning to)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is again! :) My followers wanted a Sugar Daddy!AU + A/B/O Dynamics so here it is! 
> 
> Enjoy!

Bucky hums to himself, cigarette perched between his lips as he takes a shaky intake of the nicotine that warms his insides against the harsh bitter coldness that threatens to numb his entire body as he rounds the corner of the street. The cuts on his face hurt like a bitch, especially the bruises that run up his sides from where his - now ex - boyfriend kicked in him in a rage. The tears on his face have long since dried on his cheeks, leaving the icy wind to turn his face a deathly pale if he didn’t have the soft glow of his cigarette illuminating his features.

 

There’s the putrid stench of an alpha near by, rotting wood mixed with overly sweet heat of an omega mixed into it. He scoffs to nobody, wrapping himself tighter in his coat as he passes by the scene of two women fucking in an alley. He doesn’t want to be reminded of how easily an omega can submit to an alpha, not now that he just got his ass kicked for refusing to carry Brock’s litter for the last time.

 

Prostitutes and drug dealers start to get frequent as he walks home. He gets a few catcalls of them calling him over, scents meant to arouse and invite feeling more threatening to him now. They yell at him when he doesn’t turn his head, calling him all names that fall flat to his ears.

 

The light drizzle suddenly picks up, downpouring hard and brutal against his cheeks and hands, a stray raindrop putting out his cigarette completely as he lets the bud fall from his mouth and onto the dirty sidewalk. Fuck you, Shamoo. He looks up to find himself near the L&L Automat, the light from the diner illuminating the puddles in the street as he pulls a couple of dollars from his pocket, counting them quietly in his palm.

 

_Five, six, seven, eight plus the two quarters in my other pocket makes eight dollars and fifty cents. Not enough._

 

The smell of cooking meat entrances him, much more appealing than any apha scent he’s ever encountered. He moans to himself as he turns away, continuing the next two and a half miles back to his shitty apartment. By the feel of the rain, Bucky wouldn’t be surprised if he got through the door to find his place flooded from the leaks in the roof. Fucking landlord refuses to fix it everytime he asks, always spitting how he won’t help an omega who is mate less.

 

This fucking town.

 

Bucky’s so wrapped in the hazy created by the pain on his body along with the rumble in his stomach, he doesn’t notice when the sleek car pulls up next to him. It’s black, shiny enough that the distant light of the L&L bounces off it enough that Bucky can see his own reflection in the driver side door. The alpha inside smiles, his scent hitting Bucky like a train when the scent is almost close enough to be exactly like Brock’s. He leans closer to Bucky, looking him up and down. “Hey, gorgeous,” he starts, but Bucky continues walking without paying him a glance. The man drives slowly to match Bucky’s pace, still biting his lip. “I’m talking to you,”

 

“Leave me alone,”

 

“Aw, don’t be like that, sweetie,” he coos, puckering his lips to send a kiss Bucky’s way. Even though the alpha’s scent is overwhelming, Bucky can smell the sweet fragrance of a beta woman somewhere in there. A honk from behind the car makes the alpha jump, looking behind him to flip off the other car before he turned his attention back to Bucky. “C’mon, baby, show me that pretty smile of yers,”

 

“Beat it, dick,” Bucky grimaces, disgust gripping his stomach when the man laughs as he reaches into his passenger seat to grab a fat stack of bills. “And I’m not your ‘baby’,”

 

“No need to be rude, honey. Here, I’ll even pay you for a piece of that hot ass of yours,”

 

“I said get lost!” Bucky’s hand fumbles with the switchblade in his pocket, trying his best to project negative pheromones towards the bastard in a show of dominance. The smile falls off of the guy’s face, stepping on the breaks of his car, and finally, finally, stops talking to Bucky. The omega continues walking, hunching his shoulders to his ears as the wind picks up in the narrow street. He clenches his jaw tighter, willing himself to stop shivering in the cold. The guys from the car is coming towards him, dominant pheromones making the omega gag. Bucky bites back the urge to scream. He’s tired, cold, hungry, hurt, and just wants to get home to his futon so he can cry in peace. The man grabs his arm, nails digging into his upper arm.

 

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going, huh?” the man shouts through clenched teeth, other hand coming up to slap Bucky across the face. It’s weak but the man managed to hit right where Bucky already has a bruise, erecting a yelp from the omega. “You’re an omega, you’re suppose to be begging to be fucked! You have no-”

 

“Hey!”

 

Before Bucky can actually process, a fist comes flying out of nowhere and socks the guy in the jaw, sending him hurtling towards the wet ground. The guy lets go of Bucky when he falls, allowing the omega to step away of the rumble while his heart tries to get back to a normal pace of rhythmic thumping while he watches the newcomer pull the man up by the collar of his shirt. He’s taller than both Bucky and the guy, towering over both when he roughly jerks the man towards Bucky.

 

“Apologize to him,” the new guy growls, not one sweat bead dripping down his face. The man in his grip struggles to get out, snarling and panting while a violent bruise blossoms on his jaw from where the guy socked it to him. Bucky watches with suspicion when the new man gets impatient with the lesser alpha, shaking him harshly. “Apologize!”

 

“Okay, okay! I will! Let go of me!” the man complains, almost losing his balances when the blonde alpha lets him go, staring him down like a scolding mother. The man clears his throat, looking at Bucky with vacant eyes as he fixes his shirt over his beer belly. “I’m sorry, okay?”

 

“Fuck you!” Bucky spits, his instincts already kicking him for going against an alpha that has at least a good fifty pounds on him.

 

“You ungrateful piece of-”

 

“Alright, that’s enough out of you!” the blonde hisses, shoving the man towards his vehicle. He goes stumbling into his car, cursing both Bucky and the man before he takes off with the screech of tires against the wet pavement of the street. There’s a crackle of thunder overhead, lighting up the entire sky in a flash of white as the alpha next to him sighs. “Are you alright?”

 

Bucky swallows thickly, shoving his hands into this coat as he looks at the man through his wet curls. He’s handsome, a modern day fucking Adonis with the brightest eyes he’s ever seen staring down at him with a smile that could make an omega drop their panties if it meant getting some of that. It’s a damn shame that Bucky is actually considering it. “I’m alright,” he sighs, hugging his torso tighter to trap heat better. His breath fogs in front of him when he speaks, the tip of his nose already going numb, “You can go now, I’ll be fine,”

 

“Are you sure?” he asks, squinting his eyes as drips of water fall from his hair onto his face. He looks around the neighborhood, furrowing his eyebrows as he surveys his surrounding. Bucky could laugh at how out of place the alpha was, almost like a child lost in a supermarket. “Why don’t I buy you dinner, hm? You look like you could use a bite,”

 

“.... You’re new here, aren’t you?” Bucky asks, laughing bitterly. “Word of advice, pal? Don’t trust people you’ve just met on the street,”

 

Bucky turns to leave, shaking his head at the man before the alpha speaks again. “Then a drink? There’s a bar at the hotel I’m staying at,” he says, smile stretching on his pink lips when Bucky stops in his tracks to look back at him. He’s like a fucking golden retriever. “It’s on me,”

 

“Deal,”    


* * *

 

 

The restaurant that they walk into looks fucking expensive just from the look of it. Candles on each table illuminate the dim room, flickering against the faces of nicely dressed people who are no doubt staying at the fucking Hyatt like the blonde alpha is. The tables are clad in pristine white cloths, all the plates and silverware perfectly centered for the high-paying customers. All the waiters move around clad in black and white semi-formal attire, a mix of scents hitting Bucky the moment they step into the restaurant. The alpha smiles down at him as he walks up to the maitre d’, hand going inside his suit jacket.

 

“Hello,” he says, “Reservations for Rogers, Steve,”

 

The maitre d’ smiles and types into the computer, her lips tugging into a frown as her eyes scan the screen. The beta looks back at the alpha - Steve - before folding her hands together. “I apologize, sir, but there isn’t a reservation under that name,”

 

Steve pulls a couple of bills from his wallet, handing them over to the woman so subtly that Bucky wouldn’t have noticed if he wasn’t watching Steve like a hawk in case the alpha decides to pull any funny business on Bucky. The beta stares at the moment presented to her, flickering her gaze between Steve and the money before sliding them from under the blonde’s fingers. Her looks around the dining area, smiling when she looks back at him. “Ah, yes, Mr. Roger. Let me escort you and your … companion to your table,” she says, taking two menus from near her post. Steve gestures for Bucky to go ahead of him, scent comforting and inviting as he trails behind the omega.

 

The maitre d’ leads them to the table in the center of the room, surrounded by high-class customers muttering to each other as they eat with fat wallets practically bulging from their coats or purses. Steve pulls the chair out for Bucky, pushing it in as the omega sits before taking his own seat across from him.

“I thought you were taking me out for drinks?”

 

“Don’t worry, we will,” the alpha smiles, “With me, we’ll get plastered with class,”

  
“I bet,” 

 

“So, I never did catch your name,” Steve hums, opening the menu as he scans the options with a raised blonde eyebrow. “I’d rather like if I knew my dining companion’s name instead of calling you ‘cute omega’ in my head,”

 

Bucky’s face flushes at the compliment, hoping to use the menu to hide his face from the alpha. Steve chuckles, teeth clacking against the rim of the glass when he takes a sip of sparkling water with a wedge of lemon floating inside. “My name is James, but people just call me Bucky,” he replies, eyes bulging at the prices in front of him. Some of this stuff is over a hundred dollars, let alone anything that Bucky can afford with eight dollars and fifty cents jiggling around in his pocket. “Holy shit, this crap is expensive,”

 

Steve laughs, and God, what Bucky would give to hear that laugh everyday for the rest of his life. It’s so genuine, shaking Steve’s entire figure from the force of it. “Yeah, well, I’m obsessed with their steak here,” Steve says, closing the menu when the waiter comes over. He’s a young omega, bright smile plastered on his face as he takes out his notepad and pen. There’s a bond bite on his neck, high enough that it’s flashy for the whole world to see that this omega is bonded if the heavy scent of pine wasn’t a big enough indicator.

 

“Hi! My name is Foggy, I’ll be your server this evening,” the waiter chimes, focused completely on Steve as the blonde looks up at him. Bucky watches silently, taking in the sheer handsomeness before him as Steve cracks a cheesy joke when he orders them both some wine by the name. The omega has never heard of the name but he can only imagine that it’s probably really fucking expensive. The waiter nods at him before departing, leaving Steve and Bucky alone again as the music of the restaurant lulls them both into the silence.

 

“Do you know what you want to order?” Steve asks, unfolding his napkin when he breaks the silence between them, must to Bucky’s dismay. He folds his hands in front of him, lips twitched faintly in a smile. Bucky glares at him. “Don’t worry about the prices,”

 

 _Easy for you to say,_ Bucky thought, trying not to let his jaw hang when the cheapest thing on the menu is a bowl of spinach dip for twenty five dollars, _a meal for two here probably costs as much as my rent …_

 

“Okay, I bite,” Bucky sighs, putting the menu down, “Is this some kind of prank with your friends? Find the weirdest guy on the street and feed him or something? Do you … do you need a kidney, is that it? Because I hate to break it to you, I’m already do-”   

 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Steve laughs, putting his hands up defensively to stop Bucky in his tracks. The couple next to them go silent, stopping their conversation for a second before restarting again when Bucky ducks his head in embarrassment. “It’s not like that, I swear!”

 

“Then do you mind telling me what it is?”

 

Steve sighs, thanking the waiter when he arrives with the wine he ordered and starts pouring it into both their glasses without wasting a single drop. Foggy hovers for a bit, notepad out again. “It’ll just be another minute,” Steve says, folding his hands on the table when he leaves, “I don’t like bullies, don’t care where they’re from. Prostitute or not, you don’t deserve to be treated that way,”

 

Bucky almost spits out the wine when he hears that, coughing after he manages to swallow it down. The alpha’s eyes are wide, pushing his chair back to help Bucky but stops when the brunette puts his hand up with a wheeze. He coughs a couple more times, eyes narrowed at Steve when he composes himself once more. The bastard’s face looks worried, torn between helping him or respecting his wishes. “I’m not a prostitute!” Bucky hisses, grip tight on the tablecloth. Steve blinks.

 

“You’re not?”

 

“No! That guy was probably drunk or something!”

 

Steve is silent, leaning back in his seat while he stares at the omega gobsmacked. His blinks slowly as Bucky takes a sip of the wine, completely unaware of Foggey coming back to take their order. The omega stands there for a bit, cocking his head to the side as he waits for Steve to start speaking, but the blonde continues staring at Bucky in shock. Finally, he sits up with his back straight, looking the waiter in the eyes as he orders the steak (One hundred and twenty dollars). “What about you? Remember, don’t worry about the price,”

 

Bucky smirks, chuckling at the blonde. He turns to the waiter with a sweet smile, clearing his throat before saying, “I’ll have two of the same steak, rare. I want is still bleeding on my plate,” he says, glancing at Steve over the rim of the wine glass. The swirls it in his mouth a little, enjoying the slight bitter taste that comes with it as a smile stretches on the blonde’s face. He grabs both the menus and hand it to the waiter.

 

“Whatever you want, Bucky,”

 

That … was not how this was suppose to go. Why isn’t he angry? He should be fucking spewing venom at Bucky right now, instead he smiles at Bucky like _he’s_ the one hundred and twenty dollar steak. The whole situation is just fucking weird to Bucky, though the thought of someone willing to spend money on him for stupid things actually makes him feel a little, well, nice. No one has ever dared to spend money on him like this, especially not Brock. With Brock it was always Bucky at his beck and call, always “Yes, Brock” or “Whatever you ask, dear”.

 

Bucky drinks again. This was going to be a long night.

 

* * *

 

When Bucky wakes up, he’s so comfortable that he can’t bear to move. The mattress under him is so soft, the aches of his body are completely numb under the lovely treatment the clean sheets do for him. The entire room smells nice, not like his at home that smell of wet carpet and dog piss no matter how many times he tries to clean the fucking place. It’s dark for a moment while his eyes adjust to the darkness, all his other senses coming online when he feels a heavy weight across his naked torso. He’s on his side, his back pressed against a bare broad chest that radiates heat into Bucky’s comfortable body. Steve’s chest.

 

Bucky winces when he moves his legs, a sharp ache stabbing his lower back. It’s all coming back to him now; they got drunk off the wine that they kept ordering, Bucky made a lewd comment about Steve’s knot, Steve made a cheesy lewd comment in return, and they fucked. Really hard. The omega brings his hand down to feel between his legs, sighing when he realizes that Steve’s knot went down while they were sleeping which means he can leave without hurting either one of them. Steve stirs a little, breathing out a sigh while nuzzling against Bucky’s scent glands just under his ear. Bucky lays still until Steve settles again, one hand tangled in the omega’s hair and the other tightening around his stomach.

  Carefully, Bucky grabs the alpha’s wrist from around his waist, lifting it off of him as slowly as he can. Steve remains still. He moves his head close to Steve’s and peppers the side of his nose in feather kisses as he moves out from under him. The alpha shifts, slipping out of Bucky with a quiet grunt as he moves to lay on his back. The alarm clock on the nightstand reads ‘1:05 AM’.

 

Bucky slips off the bed, searching the floor of the room to find his underwear when Steve sits up in the dark, looking at Bucky hazily. The brunette freezes, swallowing thickly when he sees the blonde alpha yawn. “Hey,” the omega whispers, smiling as he bends over the bed to kiss Steve’s sweat covered forehead, “Go back to sleep,”

 

Steve nods sleepily, lying back down into the plush covers and pillows with sex-mussed hair falling over his forehead limply. The omega moves off the bed slowly, humming a tune to keep the blonde sleeping while he pulls on his boxer briefs and then his pants. There’s a notepad and pen near the bed on Bucky’s former side, something written down in neat handwriting.

 

_Stark Towers_

_200 Park Avenue_

_Manhattan, New York_

 

He rips it off the pad and folds it neatly, shoving it into this pocket.

  


* * *

  


There’s only one alpha that Bucky trusts completely, enough to come to whenever he’s in need of moral guidance and has been trying to set him up on a date for months, even after he started dating Brock: Natasha Romanov. 

  


She’s a sure firecracker, gorgeous on the outside with bright lipstick always painted on her plump lips and her hair always perfectly fashioned as amazingly as she is. On the inside, she takes no shit from nobody and can probably kill Bucky with her little pinky if he ever responded to her in anyway that doesn’t have a trace of respect. She takes the cake for being the best alpha he’s ever met in his short years of life and of that, he’s unlimitedly grateful. Which is why he doesn’t get mad when she smacks him upside the head the moment he steps foot into her home. 

  


“Ow!” he yelps quietly, watching Clint cradle their sleeping daughter in his arms. The omega nods at Bucky, cooing with Kate’s small arms hugging his neck tightly before he disappears into her bedroom to lay her down. A small voice pipes up in the silence, asking her mother where the apple pie was. Bucky winces. Steve’s scent is still on him, covering his body in the sweet scent of the pastry that almost cancels out Bucky’s natural musk. Natasha scoffs at him as she sits down at the kitchen table, drinking from a half empty bottle of beer. “What was that for?”

  


“You didn’t call! I was starting to worry that Brock actually killed you this time!” she hisses, taking a long swing of the alcohol. 

  


“... We broke up,” 

  


“About time,” Clint says as he walks into the room, taking a seat next the Natasha and letting the redhead cushion her head on his robust shoulder. He takes her bottle out of her hands gently, taking a taste before handing it back with a satisfactory sigh. “I say good riddance,”

  


“There’s more,” Bucky winces, watching the couple freeze completely as Natasha gestures for him to go on with a flick of her wrist. “I met someone … someone rich. He, um, he took me out to eat dinner at this really fucking expensive restaurant at the Hyatt,” 

  


Clint chuckles, nodding in approval as he leans over the table to punch Bucky’s arm playfully with a wrapped up fist. “Get some, tiger!” 

  


“I did,” 

  


“Holy shit!” 

  


Natasha shushes them violently, face still neutral listening to Bucky talk about his experience at the Hyatt. Kate wakes up in the midst of this, walking out of her room clutching a teddy bear to her chest and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes with a small fist before she gets a good look at whoever is in the room. Her face breaks out into a smile, running over to Bucky as fast as her little legs could take her. She jumps into his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck while Clint scrambles to throw the beer away before she could see. She’s five, not stupid and already had a weird encounter with Clint and beer one night that resulted in Natasha coming home to find both daughter and mother vegged out in front of the TV; beer in Clint’s hand and apple juice in Katie’s. 

  


“Uncle Bucky!” she cheers, burying her face into the crook of Bucky’s neck. He laughs into her hair, rubbing her back before pulling her up to sit on his lap facing her parents. “I missed you!” 

  


Bucky laughs again, kissing the top of her raven head gingerly. “You saw me last week, kiddo!” 

  


Kate pouts, bottom lip thrust out. “But you never come here smelling good,” she whines, burrowing into his torso as she inhales the sugary scent all over Bucky’s skin. Natasha stands up, leaving Bucky with Kate smelling his pre-heat mixed in with the apple pie scent. She grabs his arm in her small hands, rubbing it all over her neck as most alpha kids do to claim over that they deem is ‘theirs’, especially when another alpha has already ‘claimed’ what is theirs. 

  


The child’s father comes back into the room sometime later, a laptop in her hands as she walks briskly towards the table where Bucky and Kate are. The two look at her in confusion, watching her settling down at the table with the laptop open in front of her. “What did you say his name was?” Natasha asks, fingers hovering the keyboard as she waits for him to catch up. Background check. Of course Natasha is going to want to do a background check on the guy. 

  


“Steve Rogers,” 

  


She types it in quickly, scanning the screen with squinted eyes before her emerald eyes widen, bigger than he’s ever seen before. Clint joins them again, reading the article over Natasha’s shoulder before he bursts out laughing so hard that he has to clench his sides as he lowers himself towards the tiles in a fit of hysterical laughter. “Oh my god!” 

  


“What? What does it say?” 

  
“Well Bucky,” Natasha smirks, turning the laptop towards him, “Looks like you got yourself a sugar daddy,”  


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! :) Sorry if the chapter is a little short, I wanted to post one real quick before doing a little Halloween drabble :/
> 
> I'm also sorry that it's not very good/interesting, this chapter mainly focuses on Steve's past (a little) but I promise the story will pick up with it's intended purpose of having Steve spoil his Bucky around chapter 4 so please bare with me <3<3 Another note; I'm not a doctor nor do I plan on entering the medical field so forgive me if the medical mumbo jumbo isn't accurate
> 
> WARNING: Please read the new tags, there is some mentions of blood in case that's not your cup of tea. There is a little recap of what happened in the previous night from the first chapter, so there will be a little mention of sex. I believe that's about it so <3
> 
> Enjoy!

The cafe close to the hotel is very homey, a warm and honey hue feel standing out amongst the chrome aesthetic of New York that Steve hasn’t really missed since moving to DC. The people here are always the same with their noses buried in work while sipping boiling coffee to keep red eyes open, typing up all sorts of reports and statistics. Really, Steve should also be reviewing the contract Stark had printed up for his new hospital, but all that was on his mind was the omega from last night. 

 

Steve is pretty sure that he was way more drunk than Bucky, but the details that he does remember from that night was just how unbelievably  fun sex was. It wasn’t like any other sex Steve has ever had in the past where it was very intimate from start to finish, where the fun was more of a happy giddy feeling. Even then, it felt too perfect, too heavy about the weight of their relationship hanging over them like a knife hanging from where it’s tied to a flimsy sting. No, sex with Bucky actually made both of them laugh. Every time one of their voices broke in the middle of a moan, or when Bucky’s chocolate strands would fall to his eyes, or when Steve pretended to gag from licking the sweat dripping down Bucky’s unmarked virgin neck. The smell of arousal around the room was a mix of both their decadent scents, clinging to the walls and furniture. He remembers chuckling when Bucky remarked about how he wished he got dessert at dinner now that Steve’s scent was floating about. 

 

The brunette fell asleep first, Steve’s knot still firmly embedded inside him. His hair hung around his face, his breath shifting the strands whenever he exhaled and few of the curls firmly glued to his soft sinfully crimson lips. Steve fell asleep a few an hour later, spending the whole time moaning silently into Bucky’s hair whenever a particularly hard wave of pleasure takes him off guard. He remembers hearing the smaller man hum something far away, a kiss pressed to his forehead with a smile hiding behind it.

 

Then Bucky was gone in the morning. 

 

Steve sighs as he leans back in his chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he pulls out his phone from his coat. The coffee in front of him as long since gone cold, yet he continues to sip from him while he waits. The clock on his phone tells him that only twenty minutes have passed since he sat down, though it feels like an eternity to wait for Peggy. He contemplates if he should send a text asking where she is, but they seem to think alike when the bell on the door chimes with the arrival of the alpha. 

 

She smiles when she spots him, removing her gloves as the clacking of her heels sound around the cafe in a pleasing and rhythmic beat. Steve stands up to greet her, hugging her tightly with a kiss on her flushed cheek from the cold outdoors. 

 

“My, New York is bloody colder in the winter, isn’t it?” she comments, shrugging off her dark coat to reveal the beige sweater underneath. The knitted beanie comes off too, messing up her perfectly curled hair. “Maybe I should’ve taken Stark’s car when I had the choice,” 

 

Steve chuckles. “I wouldn’t be caught dead in one of his cars. Too flashy for me,” 

 

“Interesting, because I heard from a little birdie that last night you did, in fact, take one of Stark’s cars,” she muses, one manicured finger tapping her chin lightly in mock thought, “I also heard that you didn’t go to the meeting last night,” 

 

“All the meetings are the same. We walk in, sit down, Stark talks about how smart he is, we pack up, and go back to the hotel. Trust me, I didn’t miss anything last night,” 

 

“Oh, Steve, you know I can’t stand those meetings either. I admire you for not attending, honestly. However, there is the matter of where you had gone,” she smirks at him mischievously, drumming her nails on the table. The beta waitress arrives in the nick of time, refilling Steve’s cup to the brim with coffee before she fills up Peggy’s with the same amount. She sets the pot on the table, pulling her notepad out from her apron before clicking her pen. 

 

“What can I get you two?” 

 

Before Steve can reply, Peggy cuts in with a firm smile, “We need a couple more minutes to decide, dear, thank you,” before she redirects back to Steve. “Steven, don’t play coy with me. You haven’t stopped smiling since we sat down! Now, tell me, who did you meet with last night?” 

 

“I don’t kiss and tell, Mrs. Carter,” he rips open three packets of the sugar, spilling it all in his cup and mixing it all together. 

 

“Oh I’m positive you did more than just kiss, Mr. Rogers,” 

 

Steve doesn’t answer, just picks up the mug slowly and bringing the cup up to his mouth. Peggy huffs at him, but drops the subject when she opens up her briefcase and shuffles through the papers inside it. The sounds of people clicking their knives and forks against plates fill the silence between them, comforting Steve now that he doesn’t have to admit out loud how he had his first and last one-night stand. He loves Peggy to death, he truly does, but he doesn’t think his love life is any of her business. The woman takes out a stapled stack of paper, laying it out on the table in front of Steve. “I spoke with Pepper this morning and she told me to give this to you. It’s the contract for the hospital,” she flips over a few of the pages, tapping her finger on the page. “Stark is really committed to having you on as part of the staff, huh?” 

 

“What makes you get that idea?” Steve chuckles, reading down the paragraphs. It details all of his benefits, listing his sick days, and reinstating his hippocratic oath, along with other things that Stark thinks are important for him to have as a surgeon. The only problem that Steve has with the contract is that it’s going to require him to move to New York and out of DC. It’s a three year contract. “How long do I have before I have to hand this to Stark?” 

 

“As soon as possible, though Pepper told me that the hospital requires a few more weeks before it can be up and running. It’s a little steep, but I think he’ll accept it up until then,” The table vibrates along with a loud buzz, attracting Peggy’s attention as she picks it up from its spot near the salt and pepper shaker. She gives the screen a quick glance, grabbing her beanie with her free hand before she’s smiling up at Steve. “Well, speak of the Devil. It’s Stark. Something is wrong with the security system at the tower, I have to run,” 

 

She pulls her coat back on, closing her briefcase with a click as she pushes her chair back. Her phone gets put back in her pocket, scarlet smile brightening the room when she regards him. “You know you can tell me anything, right?” she says, bending down to kiss his cheek, “I’ll talk to you later, bye,” 

 

“Talk to you later, Peggy,”  

 

_ Please don't leave me, too. _

* * *

  
  


Steve gets back to the hotel after breakfast, laying his wallet and phone on the TV stand near the door. There’s no meetings or appointments to attend to, nothing to really look forward to until Monday when Stark schedules yet another ‘run through’. For now, he has some down time. 

 

He strips out of his suit jacket, draping it on the back of the golden colored chair as he starts unbuttoning the button down. The room has been cleaned while he was out, fixing the bedsheets that Bucky had done a number on the night before. His scent still lingers, the crisp scent of burning wood in a fireplace driving straight to his senses and awakens his alpha instincts to mate whoever the scent belongs to. Swallowing down his urges, Steve manages to dress down into his sweat pants by the time he willed his blood back into his brain to restore some simple civil common sense and crawls onto the softly made bed with his computer in hand. The room is incredibly quiet, squeezing out a huff from Steve just to have something other than the complete silence that lurks over him. There’s the occasional sound from the rooms next to his - guests speaking to one another or a TV commercial loud enough to drown out the quiet in his own room. The city outside is bright with possibilities, morning sunshine bouncing off the towers and skyscrapers as it climbs higher only to hide amongst the silver clouds. The wind howls loudly once in a while past his window, but it's not strong enough for Steve to actually make it out compared to the TV and conversation going on on each side of his room. His phone buzzes on the table, yet he chooses to ignore it in favor of opening his laptop and start to write more of the document he left open. 

 

His practice has gotten fairly popular over the years, including lots of other medical professionals contacting him for his services in their hospitals for a short period of time or a college wanting him to come and lecture on Immunodeficiency disorders and the such. He’s always had to decline them for the most part, choosing to spend his free time reviewing his discoveries to nit pick any of the things he missed while studying the bone marrow of patients. It wasn’t until he was contacted by Dr. Abraham Erskine from Heidelberg University that he actually pulled himself from his studies, having found Dr. Erskine’s research much more interesting: A medicine that can combat against Immunodeficiency and anemia, making a person healthier while getting rid of the diseases. So far the medicine is in it’s testing phase, their test subjects being a variety of alphas, betas and omegas in different age groups for each status along with an assortment genders and ethnicities. From the evidence Dr. Erskine has sent him, the alphas’ hormones seem to contradict the drug and destroy any trace of it the moment it enters the bloodstream. Perhaps if for alphas they might have to make it a little more weaker to not trigger the body’s defensive protocol …

 

Fingers flying about the keyboard, Steve watches as his text shows up before him on his laptop while rereading the sentences in his head. The words blur though, merging together in jumbled masses of black clumps all along the pearly word document. He rubs at his eyes, hoping to clear his distorted vision. Nothing makes sense anymore, erecting a quiet growl from Steve to himself before he’s closing the computer gently and setting it aside. Steve leans back on the pillows, sighing when his spine pops with the relief of the pressure now gone. He uses his hand to cradle the back of his head, closing his eyes before sailing into a light rest that he doesn’t even know is happening until he hears voices. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

_ “Bartender! A round for my buddy! It’s his bachelor party!”  _

 

_ Steve laughed, throwing his whole head back. His body shook with it, and for a moment Steve wonders back to a time when this kind of enjoyment was actually genuine. When it came as easily as breathing to him, without a smile that hurts his heart with every second he forces his lips to pull up. Morita’s on his left, shot glass already in his hand while he encouraged Steve to take the small glass in front of him. Other hands appeared, taking a glass each before they all band together and shouted “Cheers!” into the already booming club. The beta swallowed the booze down in one gulp, sighing as he leaned back with his hand still firmly clasped onto Steve’s shoulder.  _

 

_ “Oh man! I can’t believe you’re tying the knot already!”  _

 

_ “What can I say, boys? The heart wants what the heart wants,”  _

 

_ “Don’t giv’ us that bullshit, Rogers!” Jacques laughed, and wiped his mustache with the back of his hand that glowed blue under the spotlights, “You still haven’t told us who the lucky, lucky omega is,”  _

 

_ The other men “o-oh”ed at the statement, a few of them clapped his back while the others jostled him to shake the answers out but Steve remained firm, setting the shot glass onto the counter of the bar with a smile still present on his lips, but this was the beginning of that smile suddenly turning sour and turning itself against him. The first time that his smile started to ache while the voices of his conscience screaming insecurities at him. ‘ _ You can’t tell them. They’ll know how disgusting you are, how sick. They’ll think you’re weak. You are weak. They’ll find out when you walk into that chapel, see how much of a horrible alpha you are.’

 

_ “It’s a secret,”  _

 

_ “Secret, my ass!” Morita called from his other side, playful smile suddenly turning into a scowl as he smashed the glass on the counter. Jagged shards cut into his fingers, one flying to slice into his chest with soulful eyes going unfocused and hazy. “You’re disgusting, Captain,” _

 

_ Steve laughed.  _

 

_ And laughed.  _

 

_ And laughed.  _

 

_ Tears leaked from his eyes, dropping onto his pants and the golden band on his left finger. His sides hurt, his chest compressed tightly around his heart as the pulsing mass of infection stopped pumping out blood and started to push slog through his veins. The air around him had turned stale and stuffy, but his greedy body kept trying to gulp up as much as the polluted air as it could, still laughing, always laughing. Laughing when his father left, chuckling when his mother didn’t wake up for hours that night, snicker when he split his head open in the middle of the desert, howling when he awoke to find his fiance gone. All he could’ve done was laugh louder and harder as the bar dissolved around him into darkness, his laughter bouncing off around him in echoes that surround him completely with the suffocating perfume of sweet fruit and flowers mixed with the hard stench of blood and desert sand.  _

 

_ Then suddenly it’s white. And the smell is no longer sickeningly fresh and fruity.  _

 

_ It hardens, changing into a flood of gentle and pinching firewood that use to smother him as a child but now invokes a strange homey feeling inside of Steve and he stops laughing. His tear stained cheeks dry quickly on his cheeks, his heart slowing down to a gentle beat as the blood returns to his system, and he can finally breathe in air without it getting stuck in his throat. The white fades away to a familiar face laying next to him, half-lidded stormy blue eyes smiling up at him while the other’s lithe form arches up from the bed with a satisfied grunt. Chocolate curls fanning out around his head, strands falling onto his forehead limply. Steve inhales the scent of Bucky, moving closer to him to bury his face in the crook of the omega’s neck and kissing the fresh bond bite just under his scent glands.  _

 

_ “Calm down, cowboy,” Bucky smiles, humming deep in his chest as he rakes his fingers through Steve’s golden hair. “We’ve got all the time in the world,”  _

 

_ Steve wants to laugh at the statement, but his head hurts now. Pounding and hammering the insides of his skull like a hammer knocking a nail into its place with brutal force that can almost break the wall. Instead he continues to kiss up of Bucky’s slender neck with the occasional nibble, the skin under his lips vibrating with a chuckle that bobs the omega’s Adam’s apple. Perfectly shaped fingers scratch at the spot on Steve’s nape, teasingly scrapping the spot lightly before starting over at a slower pace. _

 

_ But when Steve pulls away to kiss those scarlet lips that will erase all of his demons, he finds nothing but sand under him. His comfortable sweats he just had on fades to a mix variety of green and brown, tight and hard on his torso as he kicks his feet out to find them enclosed in heavy boots that weigh him down. Sweat drips from his brow, but it’s the blood that rolls down from his head that blinds him from staring at the blistering sun. He pats down his uniform lazily, feeling sticky fabric mushing under his callused fingers when pain flares up from the spot on his gut.  _ No no no nononono not again. Please, not here, anywhere but here, please _. Steve whimpers inaudibly at the sky, ears ringing so harshly that it causes the pounding in his head to increase tenfold. He moves his head to his right and finds a sight that he will see for years to come, bile climbing up his throat but is pushed down by the sheer force of Steve’s denial to see Morita laying in soaked sand with clouded eyes staring up at him.  _

 

_ He looks to his left, and despite the desert’s suffocating heat, he finds his body going cold.   _

 

* * *

 

Steve wakes up with a jolt, midday sun shining into the hotel room as the city below him continues to move and live - never stopping for anyone and forcing those in the city to act fast to keep up. The blonde groans, sitting up with the wrinkle sheets imprinted on his thighs and arm, one hand coming up to fiddle with the hearing aid that suddenly decided to whistle loudly into his already damaged ear drum. He feels around his gut, sighing in relief when he finds that there isn’t a bullet hole piercing through his insides with the full intent to kill him. He looks around the room to find the source of what woke him up, only finding his phone softly vibrating on the table near the couch. It rattles on the glass, but Steve isn’t too worried about it - already knowing it’s Tony wondering if he wanted to accompany him and Pepper to some show or something - while he gets up and stretches his arms over his head. The room isn’t as numbingly quiet as it was when he fell asleep now that the cars under his window honk at each other in the middle of rush hour, every business man rushing to take the first cab they find that can get them back to work the fastest. 

 

He doesn’t miss the city, preferring the gentler pace in DC over the hectic one in Manhattan. But if there’s one thing that he hates about DC is that everyone is constantly busy and you can feel the absence of anyone near you at all times. It constantly reminds Steve how pathetic his life really is when he sits down to do research and shuts out anyone who would want to spend a minute of their precious time on a waste of space like him. His house in DC is big, sure, and very luxurious that even his mother laughs whenever setting foot inside with a tupperware container of her famous colcannon in hand, through his neighborhood is bland and boring with picket fences and the occasional squeal of children playing in the streets. At least in New York, with over eight million people running around the entire city with minds racing with ideas and ways to make money, there was life and noise that he can’t help but get caught up in. 

  
Eight million people in the city, and Steve is hooked up on one.       



	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry for the late update, I had school then somehow got major block on this chapter but everything is a little more mellow now and I'm glad I got to update this before my birthday on the 1st (yay me) 
> 
> Also, another apology for how boring this chapter is - I know it's not fair but on the bright side the next chapter is when things really kick into gear and we can start with all the fun stuff <3
> 
> Enjoy!

“James, I’m worried about you,”

 

Bucky sighs into the receiver loudly, pressing the phone against his shoulder and ear as he continues to copy the notes off of Natasha for his Omega Studies classes. The scratching of his pencil writing on paper is soothing and addictive, especially when he wants to get off the phone with Babushka as soon as humanly possible and this is the only thing keeping him off the brink of insanity. Somewhere behind him he hears something get knocked onto the floor, a low hiss from his cat carrying all the way into the living room. “What makes you say that, Babushka?”

 

There’s a pause. “I … Dedushka and I think that it’s time you started taking a hard look at your life,” she says, caring voice hesitant, “Rebecca came back, you know. Said she can’t handle America and wanted to come life in Russia with us. Besides, your Mama and Papa miss you so much!” He highly doubts his parents give two shits about him and Rebecca but her lets his grandmother continue, “What do you have in America, hm? Natalia and that’s it?”

 

“Babushka, I appreciate your con-”

 

“And what about holidays? I’ve seen the pictures you posted last year on Facebook, James Buchanan, don’t think for a second I’m not aware how horrible you’re living! ‘Christmas candles come in handy when you can’t pay your light bill’ what is that!?” she huffs out angrily, breathing in heavily into his ear as Bucky groans internally. There’s only one reason why his grandmother starts doing that; the trick he’s fallen for so many times as a child whenever he told her he was a big boy and didn’t need his Mama to rub his clothes against his alpha father’s because he was an ‘alpha’ too. He was big enough to fight anyone who disagreed that he was tough even for an unknown omega. Babushka sniffs, voice think when she says, “You are my only grandson, _snezhinka_. I only want the best for you!”

 

“Thank you, Babushka, but I’m doing great here,” Bucky hums, ignoring how his facet keeps leaking drops onto the porcelain tub of the sink at every hour of the night.

 

There’s the sound of nasal blowing in his ear, and he can almost hear the string quartet building up the notes louder and louder as they prepare for the dramatics that is his Babushka. “James, I want you to be completely honest with me …” she starts, voice low past the sniffing, “... Do you hate Dedushka and I?”

 

“What? No! Why would you think that?!”

 

“You haven’t visited us in two years, I believe it’s safe to assume my grandson, my own flesh and blood of whom I have raised by _myself_ -”

 

“I’m pretty sure Mama and Papa had something to do with it too,”

 

“-when I was still working two jobs, hates me. You know, your Pra Babushka warned me about this happening. You know what she said? She told me not to buy a bed with metal and wood because it leads to a broken family and that’s _exactly_ what happened!” she pauses for breath, blowing out her nose while Bucky rolls his eyes, “I try so hard to make sure you and your sister are happy, I only want to be a good Babushka to both of you what with your parents and all and I can’t even do that!”

 

Bucky sighs again, dropping his pencil onto his notebook and starts to rub his temples to will away the headache that’s started to develope since he answered his grandmother’s call. He loves her, he truly does seeing how amazing she is when it came to raising both him and his sister - even if he did turn out to be a complete disappointment. She’s been with him through a lot, especially when it came to finding out he was an omega after his first heat at fourteen and cannot be the alpha son his father really wanted. Thank God his sister did present as an alpha.

 

“Now you’re in America, living in a piss-poor apartment and that no-good son of a w-”

 

“We broke up,”

 

Silence. Then, “What do you mean?”

 

“Brock and I broke up, Babushka,” he repeats it like it isn’t tearing his insides up just at the thought of why he had to break it off with that gigantic fucking douchebag. The bruises on his side pulse just at the mere mention of the alpha’s name, “Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, it happened last week and I’m still reeling,”

 

She’s quiet for once, but he knows her well-enough to know when she had set the phone down on the counter to muffle the sounds of her declaring her excitement to the Heavens or his poor Dedushka who wants nothing more than to sit all day and watch television. He’s seen her do it before. And when she picks up the phone again, her voice is bubbly and light as she speaks into it, “I’m so sorry to hear about that, my love, but I’m glad you broke up with him,”

 

“Me too,”

 

“So what made you finally tell him to get lost? And don’t leave out a single piece of information, James, or else I’ll call Natasha and get it from her!”

 

“Well, it’s nothing complicated. He wanted pups and I didn’t,” he only half lies, hoping that Babushka can’t tell the whole truth from a whole lie. He knows she won’t believe him, not after one fateful Skype session when she saw Brock punch a hole in his wall when Bucky told him to wait until he was finished talking to his grandmother before letting the alpha order him around like his little slave. The discussion of pups is why they broke up, but he’s going to leave out what Brock did after finding out. Brock may be a one of the strongest alphas Bucky has ever had the displeasure of meeting, but he can’t stand a chance when it comes to his grandmother’s unfiltered rage. She may be frail from the outside - hair whitening the perfect straight hair that falls down her shoulder and wrinkling face that reminds him of a sun dried apple doll - but the woman has bones made of pure iron. It’s a rumor amongst his family, but apparently she’s been involved the KGB as a young woman, a trained killer who left to marry a sweet detective. No one knows if it’s true or not, but he wouldn’t be surprised to hear it’s true.

 

The woman on the other line is silent, only the sound of faint Russian filling the background before he hears porcelain clanking against preclain.

 

“Well, you know where to find us, James,” she says cooly, water rushing from her end, “I cannot force you to move back to Russia. It is your life, I respect that. As long as you are doing your studies, and are safe, I am content,” her voice is soft with a hum, before she clicks her tongue loudly into the phone, “Alright then, I will speak to you later. Your sister is coming over in a bit and I’m still making borscht. Say hello to Natalia for me, yes? And a big kiss to Katie,”

 

Bucky hums in agreement, a small smile tugging at the edges of his lips at the thought of his grandmother’s delicious borscht, something he and his sister use to beg her to make as kids returning from school looking like colorful marshmallows with backpacks half their own size. He writes down the final sentence on his notes before he finally leans back against the semi-hard cushions of the couch and finally takes the phone in his hand. “I will, send my love to Rebecca and Dedushka. Bye, Babushka,”

 

“ _Poka_ , my love,”

 

The line went dead and left Bucky amongst the silence in his apartment, uncapped highlighter still between his middle and index finger like a neon cigarette. The notes before him don’t make sense to him anymore, letters warped from precise English words into familiar signs from his childhood, Cyrillic font staring back at him that all say the same thing, “ _Move to Russia_ ” along the blue lines from his notebook. The textbook next to his notes, however, are all written in numbers. The same date flashing under the multicolored highlighters that he’s marked up along the printed paper. All over his coffee table, Bucky can only see the reasons why he needs to pack up everything to go back home to his grandparents and sister, all cluttered on the way too small surface that’s no doubt marked up to hell with watermarks from countless glasses. He rubs his eyes with a yawn, closing the textbook and notebook slowly to preserve the post-it notes without crumbling any of the corners.

 

His whole apartment is a mess, but frankly, Bucky doesn’t have the energy to straighten everything out after studying for the past three hours, with the additional five he spent doing last night before he passed out on the couch from exhaustion. Night after night since his break up with Brock, he’s been flinging himself to his studies to get his mind off that night as much as he can under the looming truth that keeps pestering him like a fly; he really wants to see Steve again.

 

Just once more to thank him for the dinner properly, maybe even for the mind-blowing sex the alpha managed to spoil him with  in the brief two hours that he’s known the man. True, he does have the address from where he found it scribbled on the notepad, but after some extended research he found out it was just some business capitalist that owns probably 40% of New York from all the investments Stark Inc. has, no doubt having been there in the first place for some big meeting Steve had. _Oops._

 

Jumping into his lap, Koshka stretches her elegant back in a deep arch movement and kneads at Bucky’s thighs, onyx tail flicking lazily in the air before she lays down to sleep on his lap. His studies goes ignored in favor of scratching the feline’s ears, letting himself get dragged back to the sweet nothing that Steve had whispered in his ear during that memorable night in the Hyatt hotel, one in particular echoing in the depths of his mind;

 

_ You're perfect.  _

 

* * *

 

 

The best part of living in America is the friends that he’s made in his college Omega studies class because not only are they some of the best people he’s ever met, the majority of them are also from other countries.

 

Angie, for instance, is a first generation Italian-American who mainly grew up on a heavily influenced Italian household and has just gotten back from studying in Salerno to finish her college in the states. Her traditions are kept close to heart just like Bucky keeps his Russian heritage and culture, which means that there are a lot of clashing holiday preparations between the two college students whenever they meet up to celebrate. But in moments like these, Bucky’s glad that he was able to have met her when he started working at the L&L Automat last spring.

 

He’s also grateful for her taste in stupid romance movies on Netflix.

 

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” Angie starts with a giggle, pressing the back of her hand against her ruby lips as she points at the TV screen in front of them, “Do people really think that chases to the airport are romantic? Think about it; they pay thousands of dollars for a last minute ticket to somewhere they don’t even end up doing to and then the next scene, _bam_ , they’re at the gate. What about check-ins? And what about customs? And don’t even get me started on security checkpoints,” she downs the rest of her sparkling water, face scrunching up before she hiccups and breathes out the gas buildup.

 

“Maybe they get there super early,” he shrugs, crossing his ankles in front of him on Angie’s thick script she carelessly tossed onto the coffee table when he first walked in, “Besides, I thought you were a hard core romantic,”

 

Angie hums, eyes still trained on the the kiss being shared between the two attractive actresses in the movie. “Just because I am doesn’t mean I’ll accept poor cliches,” her back straightens against the cushion of the armchair as she snaps her head towards Bucky, mocha curls swaying with the movement, “Speaking of romance, guess who’s in town this week?”

 

“Oooh, could it possibly be a certain English lady?”

 

“Yes! She’s in town for a conference, she might even be staying in New York - permanently,” she sets her water on the table and moves her body to face him better, excited strong scent of coffee beans slamming into him before he even had a chance to prepare himself for the foul mixture of both their scents. She pauses, closing her eyes with a small smile tugging at her lips before she continues, “You know Dottie, right? That girl that waitresses at that sandwich place down the street from the Automat?” she waits for Bucky to nod before she continues, “Well, she heard from this executive at that new Stark building that Peggy is going to become the head of Stark’s legal team,”

 

“What? Angie, that’s amazing!”

 

“Yup! Of course, she doesn’t know that I know so don’t go blabbing to her about it,” Angie drops her voice down a few octaves with one finger pointed at Bucky as a threat while her other hand closes around the landline phone, manicured hands clinking against the plastic. “ _Speaking_ of which, I’m starving. What are you in the mood for?”

 

“What does Peggy have to do with e- aw, gross!”

 

Angie laughs out loud maniacally, drawing her slender legs under herself. The movie on the TV has already ended some time ago and has started to play reruns of Friends, a show that Angie and himself have pride themselves on knowing each and every episode. Bucky thinks over the list of good food he and Angie have discovered from living in Brooklyn and all those late night study sessions that always ended with nothing getting done and them gossiping the whole night. He scrunches his nose up in disgust and reaches for his water, “Ugh, anything but Indian food,”

 

“No way! You love Indian food!”

 

“I _know_ , I want to replace my blood with curry but the smell is just making me nauseous lately,” Bucky whines, taking up more space on Angie’s couch while the brunette mutters to herself and dials the number of their favorite Chinese place. Her voice is silky smooth while she talks to the man on the other line, ordering and chatting like old friends while Bucky watches the television. It’s the episode where Ross and Rachel find out that they made an accidental sex tape that landed the woman pregnant, one of Bucky’s absolute favorites. But now that it’s actually in front of him, he can’t bare to think about the absolutely satisfying sex he had with Steve a few weeks prior. Sure, they were pretty drunk when they fell in bed, but Bucky’s leather jacket still smells like Steve’s heavily earthy scent and it’s hard to get anything done when you have that under your nose. Angie hangs up with a smile, putting the phone back in its hold before gathering her curls into a bun.

 

“So, Peggy told me about this cute doctor at the hospital ….”

 

“Angie, please …”

 

“Just hear me out,” she says tenderly, “You’ve been with Brock for a while, I get that. But you can’t let one bad dating experience stunt you like this. Besides, Peggy told me that this guy is really sweet and really loaded like, wow, if I wasn’t in love with her I’d already be mounting-”

 

“Angela,”

 

“Right, right, sorry. Anyway, I have his number if you want it. At least think about it,”

 

“I _can’t_ , Anige,” a lump has formed inside his throat, hurting him with every swallow to try and subdue it but only getting his eyes misty from trying, “I can’t, okay? I’m so messed up right now, I can’t even think straight lately since I broke it off! Ever since I came to America, I’ve been with Brock and it’s like I can’t even function without him! He has made it almost impossible for me to live on my own because he’s been cutting me off from trying to be independent for years. You can’t tell me that this rich and successful doctor even wants something to do with a pathetic loser,”

 

“Bucky-”

 

“Not everyone is as lucky as you, Angie. You have someone who gives a shit about you, who treats you right and actually loves you. You think anyone has ever flown from London to New York for me just because I had a cold? Huh? Because news flash, Angie, no one has ever given a shit about me as much as Peggy does about you. There’s just nothing likable about me, I’ve accepted that and so should you,”

 

Bucky sniffs despite himself, pressing his lips together tightly to communicate silently to her that he doesn’t want to speak anymore about it on the subject. There’s an awkward silence between them before she sighs and turns back to the TV screen, the laugh track echoing through the apartment. It’s a bitter rest of the night that ends with both of them eating take out quietly and then turning back to what they were doing before popping the movie in; Angie to reading her script and Bucky to his textbook. Though, as an actress and Italian, Angie does seem to have a difficult time sitting in complete silence for too long and eventually turns to address Bucky.

 

“You’d make an amazing boyfriend, Bucky. I’m just sorry that someone has made you think this low about yourself when you deserve better,”

 

He ignores her. But when Angie comes over to the couch he's sitting on to wrap a loving arm around his trembling shoulders, he doesn't hesitate before resting his head against her chest for a while.

 

* * *

 

“I got your call, it sounded urgent. Is everything okay?”

 

“No, nothing is okay, Nat,”

 

“James? Open the door, I’m starting to get worried,”

 

“ _Nat_ ,”

 

“Oh my god,”

 

“What am I going to do?”

 

“I just … wow,”

 

_"What am I going to do?!_ ”

 

“Calm down, just take a deep breath. You’re hyperventilating, I don’t want you to pass out on me. I’m not going down for your death if you hit your head, James Buchanan, not like this!”

 

“Natasha, I’m scared,”

 

“I know, I know,”

 

“I’m so scared, what am I going to do?”

 

“Shh, it’s okay, we’ll figure something out, just keep breathing. That’s it, just like that,”

 

“I think I’m going to be sick,”

 

“I’m going to kill him for this,”

 

“... I’m going to do it,”

  
“James … James! Come back! … Fuck,”

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So since I felt really generous, I decided to update in a shorter time frame for this chapter because it's where things start to really kick into gear <3
> 
> This is based off of JibblyUniverse's comic strip you can find on her blog, it's really funny and I tried to do it justice
> 
> WARNING: There is a lot of swearing in this and there is mentions of abortions (Veeerrryy short but still) along with some self-slut shaming on Bucky's part over a misunderstanding
> 
> Enjoy!

The past two weeks since Steve has stepped foot back in New York have been nothing but meetings.

 

Almost every day for fourteen days, Steve has been attending all sorts of impractical meetings that Stark keeps arranging that usually last from ten in the morning until the late afternoon when his wife, Pepper Pots, finally steps in and forces him to release all the heads that will be working in the hospital once it opens the next month. Of course there will be the few who ditch the meeting in favor of doing better things with their time rather than listen to Stark go on about the tiles he wants in the surgical rooms. But no matter how many times he wants to just skip another meeting, he’s always concerned about the looks that Romanov and Wilson will give him when he returns; the raised eyebrow with the lingering smirk on their lips as they try to communicate judgement though their eyes whenever Stark has his back turned to the conference table.

 

The blonde alpha straightens his navy tie against his chest, polished foot tapping against the floor of the elevator as the doors close with the forty-third button on the array shining bright. Stark promised that this will be a very important meeting where they discuss something to do with Steve’s department, bragging about how the surgeon will just love what he has in store in terms of the technology and operation rooms that will make it a little more bearable to stand for hours bent over some poor bastard. He’s pretty sure that Stark is full of himself, but alas, he’s still reeling from the ridicule from that night he skipped out to spend the night with the alluring Bucky and doesn’t want any more ammo in Sam’s question gun.

 

The parting doors snap him back to the present where the clicking of heels entering his elevator sound out in the marble flooring. The other alpha smiles at him with perfect lips framing pearly teeth, tucking a loose strand from her bun behind her ears while the gleam off her ring sparkles in the confined space. Peggy sighs with a hum, looking at the already lit button and then to Steve. “Another meeting?” she asks, voice light as the doors once again close before they start moving again.

 

“Yeah, apparently it’s something to do with the surgical team so I kinda have to be there,” Steve wills his stance to be more relaxed, letting himself admire Peggy for her flawless ease in any situation that would bring a lesser alpha to their knees at the sheer power she has radiating from her. She nods along with a noise of understanding, hands gripping her briefcase loosely. Steve gestures towards it. “I see the law department also has some things to go over, huh?”

 

“Oh yes, Hill sent a mass email three days ago just to inform me about it,” she sighs it out with a whine following behind, “I was hoping that I wouldn’t have had to come, I had some prior commitments that had to be cancelled for this meeting,”

 

“I know what you mean,”

 

The smell of Peggy’s scent spikes awkwardly, making the air between them tense and uncomfortable with the mix of their two scents; mixing the fruity aroma with the spiced fragrance that once use to make everyone they knew happy to smell upon their entrance into any building, but now just smells foul to Steve as he unconsciously takes a step back from it. The action doesn’t go unnoticed to the other alpha, her lips pursed together as she snaps towards him.

 

“So, when will you be willing to spill the beans about that omega you fondued?” he knew the joke was meant to be funny, but right now he can’t bare to spend another minute wasting time to think about that night after having already took a little more time than usual that night to fall asleep, if you know what he means. Which is why he’s grateful when the elevator chimes, reminding the two that they have arrived at their destination and he’s out of there like a shot into the night to file into the conference room alongside of Sam Wilson, the best psychologist Steve’s ever had the pleasure of meeting.

 

Which others in his profession usually avoid any semblance of normal communication between themselves and their clients, Sam prides himself on going the extra mile for all his patients in the hospital that will need him when they see no end to their misery. He makes fun exercises for the young ones to try, and thought provoking questions that will stick with the older ones until they can root out why it bothers them and tell him at their next session. The best part about all of it is that Steve has the pleasure to call the man one of his best friends, clapping him on the shoulder the moment the two cross the threshold. “Good morning, Steve. How are you this fine day?” the beta smiles, pressing a hand on his vest while his other hand remains in his pocket as a gesture that he usually calls “approachable body language” when in reality Steve isn’t sure if Sam is trying to sell him jewlery or get him to try a revolutionary invention. Steve chuckles, taking the coffee that Coulson hands to him upon sitting in the lavish seats provided for them.

 

“I’m doing alright, wish we didn’t have to come to this meeting though,” Steve replies, taking a sip before allowing himself to untense into his seat and just enjoy the little time he has left before Stark struts in with no doubt a million of useless ideas to go over. In fact, he can already see Pepper move in and out of the room carrying different folders against her chest as her burning ember scent flows around the room with every entrance and exit. “I already know I’m going to be regretting waking up this morning, just you wait,” Steve takes another sip, “Where’s Natasha? She never misses a meeting,”

 

“She texted me earlier saying she’ll be a little late, something with a friend came up and she wants to make sure they’re alright before coming in today,” Sam then laughs, sitting to the seat closest to Steve - who is occupying the end of the table - and patting his shoulder. “I promise we’ll get hammered after this, just stay in there until Stark is done blabbering-”

 

“I admire your honesty, Dr. Wilson, but will you kindly shut the hell up so I may begin?” the devil himself, the multibillionaire genius former playboy stands taller than them all at the other side of the table with his appearance groomed to the nines as the view of all of Manhattan can be seen just over his shoulder from the insanely polished windows. The omega looks around the group first, then smiles widely with a grin that reminds Steve of those annoying teenageres in movies you just really want to yell at to shut the hell up. “No more interruptions? Nothing else? Remember, speak now or forever hold your peace, my friends. No? Okay, then let's get this started,”

 

 

* * *

 

“Steve?”

 

The blonde snaps himself upright, straightening his back as Peggy’s uncertain voice floods through the receiver of his cell phone. A tiny part of him shines and dies in the span of a second, the flicker of an old hopeless thought being suppressed against when he realizes that the uncertainty in her voice is more hesitant and confused. The meeting around him comes to a stop, his associates looking at him and back at each other as the sounds of angry shouts and thunderous foot traffic can be heard from both outside the room and on Steve’s phone. Sam even perks up at the noise, wincing when something fragile shatters very close by to the conference door. They all mutter to each other, wondering what was so important that Stark had to stop his jibs to Steve’s apparent virginity for the alpha to answer his phone when the commotion started. He hears Peggy inhale sharply soon after, voice faint when she continues speaking, “I’m sorry, sir! You can’t ... hey!” she gets louder, a growl coming out of her as her alpha instincts peek their way out before she’s speaking again in a more authoritative tone, “Stop! You little-”

 

“Peggy?” Steve tries, but it falls upon deaf ears as more arguing fills the receiver. “What is going-”

 

Suddenly, the door of the room flies open with a loud enough bang to make him jump in his seat, mind running at a thousand miles per hour to get his body to not react to the noise or the response when the heavy smell of zesty pinecones come off in livid waves as whoever kicked the door open stands under the doorway. Stark mentions something about security when Steve is pulled away from the smell of the unbonded omega he remembers to clearly, turning his attention to Bucky to take in the sight he missed so much in the torturous weeks that followed their magnificent encounter. He stands at the doorway with his hands clenched into fists, jaw tight as piercing blue eyes glare into him with the entire weight of his ire. The omega growls, and silence befalls them all before Steve breaks into a small smile. He’ll take the wrath of the brunnette head on, he’s just happy that he’s actually here right in front of Steve.

 

“Bucky, bab-”

 

“Don’t you fucking ‘baby’ me,”

 

Steve’s smile falters, tilting his head to the side just a bit. If anything, Steve is the one that should be furious at the younger man, having woken up to an empty bed and a pair of silk boxers still hanging from one of the lamps in the far corner of the room by the window. He should be the one pumping out aggressive hormones, not Bucky.

 

Unfortunately, Steve wasn’t paying the attention that Bucky wanted from him because before Steve even saw it coming, something thin and pink is hurled at his forehead where is smacks against his face and drops into his lap while Bucky still stands in the doorway being held back by what looks to be an out of breath Natasha and cursing at the surgeon, “You piece of shit! No condom wearing motherfucking jacka-!”

 

Now, in retrospect, when Steve will review this very moment a while later in extreme frustration and fondness, he can’t really even give himself a firm answer as to why he decides to look down at whatever it was that Bucky hurled at him. Call it curiosity, or a desperate attempt to content the raging omega who’s making even Natasha break a sweat to keep him at bay, but some small part of him knew that he and Bucky were in for a wild ride. Because the second he drops his gaze to look at it, his whole world comes to a screeching halt as time stands still.

 

It’s a pregnancy test. Nothing fancy, just judging by the sharpie markings on the white part of it, it’s number four. Near the pink portion of the test are two simple instruction: Two lines is pregnant, one is a negative. He drags his eyes to the screen next to them, and picks it up in shaking fingers.

 

Two lines.

 

Bucky is pregnant.

 

Bucky, the omega he had a one night stand with, is **_pregnant_**.    

 

He vaguely feels Sam staring over his shoulder, and barely even hears when he announces it to the table of awaiting brilliant minds. Stark starts laughing, he knows this because there’s a few hushed hisses for him to shut up, but Steve’s mind hasn’t caught up to anything yet. Because he knows he should feel disgusted with himself for his first thought to not be guilt that he ruined Bucky’s life or the crushing weight of fatherhood dawning on him, no, his first thought after seeing the clear confirmation that his latest conquest is pregnant is ‘finally’. It’s only a split second, but there is a warm feeling in his chest as he continues to look over the two soft pink lines staring back at him. He’s been alone … for so long now, being deprived of something he’s always wanted ever since he got out of high school and planned his whole future ahead of him. Now, he finally has what he’s dreamed about: a family.

 

Except, he doesn't love Bucky enough to be a family, and from the continuous shouts and curses from the omega, he doubts the other is even considering loving Steve enough to want to either keep the baby or even raise it with Steve. A tear leaks from his eye, rolling down his cheek as he looks up to see Bucky tear his arm away from Happy’s hand, turning his heel and storming off with a tired Natasha in his wake. Her emerald eyes lock into his whole, narrowing as she straightens up, taking long strides over to the blonde alpha and her mere presence gets him up on his feet and towering a good few inches over her. Still, she marches right up to him with her finger stabbing harshly into his chest, eyes alight as she grinds out from a tight jaw, “Fix. This. Now.”

 

Steve’s racing out the door before Stark can get out another bout of hysterical laugh.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He ends up finding Bucky sitting on a bench in the park across the street from the Stark Tower, slumped in on himself and looking down at the test between both his hands while every once in awhile he can hear the beautiful omega sniff to ward off what Steve can only guess is tears of frustration. He stands back, letting the scene unfold in front of him as he witnesses an unguarded moment happening right in front of his very eyes; the moment when someone realizes and soaks in the full gravity of a terrible mistake. The blonde alpha sees the way Bucky keeps alternating from simple sniffles to quiet sobs racking his entire frame, curling up tighter with every runaway tear that traces down his handsome face.

 

“When did you figure it out?” Steve asks, walking up quietly to sit next to the distraught omega while a pair of children rush past and chasing a dog in a fit of giggles. Bucky wipes his nose on his sleeve, red rimmed eyes looking away from the test and at Steve while tensiles of brunette strands fall from where they were held behind his ear. Steve suppresses the urge to put them back into place.

 

“Uh,” he starts nasally, sniffing once more, “I kept falling asleep in all my classes, and yesterday I almost threw up trying to pick up some Indian food …” he laughs bitterly, holding up the test up to Steve with a number one written on it. “This is the first one I took after Natasha joked that I might be pregnant. I took four today. It’s official. I’m pregnant,”

 

Steve leans back on the bench, loosening his tie with a shaky exhale as his mind tries to process that this is happening. It’s like there’s a block in his head, stopping him from reaching that peak of understanding and instead making him revert to nothingness and repeating all over again. Bucky hangs his head, burying his face in his hands with a wet moan. “What am I going to do?” Steve doesn’t know if it’s just a slip or if this is something that he’s just never noticed before, but Bucky’s voice sounds different, the words coming out of his mouth come out strange as they are coated in a Russian accent. It’s fucking precious. “I have no experience with babies. Hell, I just turned twenty-two a couple of days before I even met you. I’m not ready for a baby, Steve,”

 

The blonde sighs, leaning forward and resting his hand on Bucky’s jean-clad knee while the omega continues to stare vacantly at the park around him. The stick is still on his lap, possibly judging the situation they have found themselves in for only wanting to have a fun night out; for Steve to have his first ever one night stand and for Bucky to just have some fun after the whole shitstorm with that jackass on the street. It’s not fair. Beside him, the brunette moans loudly is aspiration, running his hand through his curls to show off the Darwin’s tubercle on his right ear that Steve hasn’t noticed before. “My grandma is going to kill me,”

 

“Hey now,” Steve starts, patting Bucky’s knee gently to make the other's eyes drag up to look him in the eyes, “Look, it’s the 21st century. You can do whatever you want, just do what you believe is right,”

 

Bucky laughs, the sound forced and strangled. “I’m Catholic. If I get an abortion, I’m pretty sure my sister is going to come all the way from Yekaterinburg to kick my ass,”

 

“I know how you feel. My mom is Irish-Catholic,” he nudges his shoulder with Bucky’s, seeing a hint of a smile peeking up from his scarlet lips. “She is a firm believer, and she passed a little bit of it down to me. But I’m sure she’d be the one to end me if I let you about my baby,”

 

“Wait. _Let_?”

 

“And of course that is if the baby is actually mine-”

 

“ _What?!_ ”

 

In a flash, Bucky disappears from next to Steve and is standing before him faster than the alpha could realize what’s happening. His jaw jumps the longer before he starts yelling. “This is my body! Who are you to ‘ _let_ ’ or not ‘ _let_ ’ me do whatever I want?! God, you Alphas are all the same! Every single one of you are jackasses who only care about treating us omegas like shit!” a hot dog vender near by freezes, his hand extended with a pretzel towards a woman who has followed the man’s gaze to where Steve and Bucky are, “And how dare you doubt whether or not I know who the father of my own baby is, huh?! You think I’m some slut? Some fucking bitch who can’t keep his legs shut?! Because news flash, Steve, it was your responsibility to put on that condom and you didn’t, now I’m pregnant and you still have the audacity to ask me if you’re the father?!”

 

“Bucky, please-”

 

“No! Fuck you, Steve Rogers!”

 

There’s no reason why the sudden urge comes over Steve, but before Bucky can turn his heel away from him and stomp off towards the gathered crowd they have gathered, the alpha rises to full height and grabs Bucky’s wrist to keep him from leaving. “We’re not done talking, Bucky! We still have a baby and no plan to discuss and I’ll be damned if I let you run away from this!”

 

“Run away? You think I’m running away? You’re the one that called be a whore!”

 

“I never said that! Bucky, just calm down so we can ta-”

 

“What’s my full name?”

 

That shuts Steve up, his mouth closing with a audible clink as his teeth meet. He racks his brain for anything about Bucky from the night they met, anything said from the moment he helped him to now and he’s drawing a clear blank. He doesn’t know his own baby’s mother’s name. Up until now, Steve didn’t even know Bucky was Russian until he can hear his accent clear as the fucking day. When did he come to America? What college is he going to? What’s his sister’s name? What’s his last name? Is he a dog or cat person? Chocolate chip cookies or oatmeal raisin? Steve doesn’t know any of those answers, not a single one.

 

Bucky huffs, nodding as his eyes start to line with red once more before he tugs his arm away from Steve’s loosened grip. “That’s what I thought,” he says quietly, bending down to grab the pregnancy test that had fallen on the sidewalk, “Goodbye, Steve,”

  
And then he’s gone.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 _ **Sam**_             3:07pm

So how did it go?

 

 

 _ **Sam**_           3:30pm

Not so good, huh?

 

 _ **Steve**_         3:38pm

He hates my guts. He thinks I did it on purpose.

Says I forgot to  wear a condom

beforehaving sex, even though I did

 

 _ **Sam**_            3:39pm

Are you sure?

 

 _ **Steve**_        3:42pm

Yes, I'm sure

 

 _ **Sam**_            3:43pm

Well, Natasha and I took it upon ourselves

to look in your briefcase and all 5 condoms

are still there ...

 

 _ **Sam**_               3:43pm

Steve, you made love without the glove, man :/

 

 _ **Steve**_           3:47pm

Oh my fucking God, Sam

 

 _ **Sam**_               3:48pm

You're really fucked if you don't fix this. Natasha

is going to rip your dick off, apparently he's her

best friend

 

 _ **Steve**_          3:53pm

Sam I can't talk right now. I'll have to call you later

 

 _ **Sam**_               3:53pm 

Steve you have to fix this like NOW 

 

 _ **Sam**_           3:53pm

My niece's birthday is in a week and

you promised to pay for half her gift!!!

 

 _ **Steve**_           3:54pm

I can't fix it you won't shut up

 

 _ **Sam**_           3:56pm

What are you going to do???

 

 _ **Steve**_           3:56pm

I'm going to show him what an

amazing father I'll be

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am horrible, I know and I suck :( 
> 
> I got a really bad block with this chapter so please forgive how short it is. On the plus side, the next one will have them making up before the real sugaring begins! 
> 
> Enjoy!

Koshka’s fur is soft under his fingers, the gentle purring coming from the curled up warm body near his head lulls him away from his troubles at hand. Her eyes squint up at him, her ear flickers subtlety when his breath tickles the soft triangle while her tail lazily sways from where it falls limp over the couch. Bucky sniffs, drawing Koshka close enough for a rough pink tongue to dart out and lick his wet cheek. He mutters a soft thanks, pressing his face into the armrest of the couch. He's been crying for the past two hours. Doesn't matter how hard he tries to hold the tears at bay, every time he calms down long enough to think clearly, a whole new batch overfills and spills down with hiccuping sobs.

 

He shouldn’t have involved Natasha into this, this was his mess and he should be cleaning this up. He probably fucked up her and Steve’s relationship at work judging from how the alpha was producing wave after wave of protective hormones the entire exchange at the office. And yeah, he over reacted this morning over the whole ‘baby talk’ (if that’s what you can call it), but this is honestly the most fucked up situation he’s ever been in. He always got great grades, and worked really hard to really become something and not end up like his parents. God, can he even finish college now? He still has a year left until he gets his Bachelor’s degree and even then he was hoping to leave college with a Masters under his belt. 

 

Now he’s going to have a baby. Maybe. Or not at all. 

 

Bucky lets a whine of frustration climb out of him.

 

And if it wasn’t bad enough that he’s been crying for the past three hours, Koshka’s ears perk up at the faint sounds in the hallway that get louder and more recognizable with every step they take closer to his door. He’s got company, which can be good or bad or ugly depending on who is currently jamming the key into the lock on his door. If it’s Darcy; good. Natasha; ugly. That motherfucking asshole; ugly. 

 

“We brought groceries!”

 

Peter bursts in like a firecracker, light on his feet and arms full of paper bags full of groceries as he moves out of the way for Angie to squeeze herself inside the apartment with an eye roll from behind her sunglasses in the spring afternoon. “ _ I _ brought them. You’re just my muscle,” Angie sighs, dropping her keys and purse on the counter island with enough noise to make Koshka duck for cover somewhere in Bucky’s room. Bucky slides further into the comfort of his couch’s back cushions, slotting himself tight enough to hopefully be swallowed up. He can feel the atmosphere drop only seconds later when the brunette clears her throat softly. 

 

“There’s a big ass bouquet of roses out in the hall,” Peter hums, nodding towards Angie to go pick it up. It’s huge, almost obscuring the lithe omega’s body in a mountain of silky scarlet roses that only left her legs visible from under the fragile vase. The room is instantly filled with the sweet aroma of the roses, mixed in with the already overwhelming scent of rain-meet new book and coffee beans that makes Bucky’s already upset stomach roll. Peter whistles, impressed as Angie sets it down on the dining table with a beaming smile as she cups on blossoming rose in her delicate palm. 

 

“Oh, they smell absolutely enchanting!” she smiles, straightening her back to take in the sight of the gift. She’s silent, admiring the roses with a wordless praise while Peter stands near her having completely forgotten the bags of groceries in his arms. There’s a gasp, then the sound of paper ripping apart before Angie speaks again in a more suspicious tone she seems to only crack out to sound like a scolding mother, “‘I know these aren’t going to get you to forgive what I said in the park this morning. Please give me a call at the number below so we can talk about this. Steve.’” 

 

The room is now covered in a thick noiseless haze between the three, only breaking when Bucky’s mood suddenly slingshots into sending him to a silent fit of tears that Steve actually did such a thing. Granted, he’s a little scared by how Steve obtained the address to send to roses but he’s about a hundred percent sure Natasha gave it to him, probably trying to get them to act like adults instead of children. Angie clears her throat when a noise of distress comes out of Bucky.

 

“Bucky?” she says in a small voice, pushing her shades up onto her head. The other omega remains silent, gripping the worn fabric tightly to will away another wave of tears that start to bubble to the surface. Minutes go by, and Bucky can’t seem to conjure up the courage to speak to her. He can’t lie, the damn chick has a fucking lie detector built into her. No small pebble in the shoe will get him out of this one. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

 

He swallows thickly, the lump in his throat now sore from having been there for a couple hours and his nose are tender from constantly rubbing at it with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. He stays down for a couple of moments, thinking over the possibly excuses he can use but eventually he can’t take the brunette's worried expression anymore. Pushing himself up to a sitting position, he sniffs before turning his head towards the back of the couch to get a look at both the omegas and their confused thoughts making their gears move. There’s a heavy pit in his stomach, almost enough to keep his words weighed down but Angie and Peter’s shared glace to each other is stronger. “I’m pregnant,” he says, a tear running down his cheek while his small smile falters. 

 

The groceries from Peter’s arms fall with a loud thud, his jaw hanging ajar with dark honey eyes blown wide enough to possibly rival Babushka’s fancy dinner plates. Meanwhile next to him, Angie squeals loudly to almost be a cry before she’s breaking out into a huge smile that can’t be hidden from behind her hands. The only noise in the room is Angie at this point, who launches herself towards the couch to pull Bucky into a bone crushing hug. “Oh my god, Buck, that’s amazing! You’re going to be a mommy!” she pulls them apart to get a look at his stomach, not noticing how Bucky’s expression drops when she speaks again, “Who’s the father?”

 

Bucky licks his chapped lips, biting the plump bottom one while Angie’s smile completely slips off her face. Peter collapses onto the chair nearest to the door, mouth still hanging while Angie’s eyes bug out of her skull before going to pinch what little fat he has on his hip sharply with her long nails. He yelps, moving away from her as she stood up. “No,” she whispers, getting Peter’s attention as his head snaps towards the two. His dark eyebrows rise to his hairline, gasping loudly enough to startle Koshka from her spot on the window sill. “James Buchanan Barnes, please tell me you aren’t pregnant with Brock’s-”

 

“No! God, no- Angie, we haven’t slept together in months!” 

 

There’s a startled scream from Peter, his finger pointed at Bucky. “The steak guy?!” he shouts, gesturing towards the window in the room. The omega groans loudly, ducking down to bury his head in the throw pillows on the couch to hide from the Accusing Finger. “You did not tell us you guys had sex!” 

 

“In my defense,” Bucky starts, voice muffled by the fabric pressed against his lips, “He was fucking hot,”

 

Angie sighs, leaning against the sofa with her curls plastered in different directions as she frowns at Bucky that he’s only ever seen on her when her alpha does something particularly stupid that it joins their list of bullshitery. She sighs again, leaning forward towards him. “Did you tell him?” she says softly, her petite hand hesitating before landing on his shoulder - despite his initial flinch. Bucky simply has to shake his head with tears already about to resurface for her to completely understand with a crumbled face, “Oh, Bucky,” she wraps her arms around his shoulders, letting him lean his head against her slender shoulder. Peter gets up from his seat in the kitchen, resting his own hand on his shoulder to offer his support, breaking Bucky down into a dry sob. He really hates this.  All of it and it doesn’t help having amazing friends like Angie and Peter being by his side like this when he dug this hole himself. 

 

He really hates this. 

    


* * *

 

 

Thankfully, Peter and Angie decided to stay the night to cheer their pregnant omega friend back into the horrible, chain smoking asshole they all come to love eventually. There’s a few times where Bucky couldn’t handle his feelings and he’d start crying randomly, the strangest being during the middle of a horror movie when there was the briefest mentioning of a child and he immediately got a flash of panic that only ended with them having to shut off the movie and call it a night. 

 

It wasn’t as horrible as Bucky thought it would be; Angie kept her wits about her and did what she did best at to keep him from overthinking too much and Peter was able to distract him with useless trivia they usually rehearse. Unfortunately for Bucky, this bliss only lasted a couple hours before the door is ringing obnoxiously with the scent of gunpowder closely following. 

 

“Oh God, no,” Bucky groans into his pillow, turning over to face the back of the couch while Angie loudly yells over the spray of the shower cascading down. The doorbell keeps going, now forming what seems like a rhythmic song beat that is currently pounding into the half conscious brain of the omega. “Make him stop …” he drawls out as he shoves the corner of his pillow into his mouth and keeps his eyes close. 

 

“Peter, if he comes in here, I won’t hesitate to kill him!” comes her reply, a loud bang bouncing off the tile walls of the bathroom. Bucky nods in agreement, eyes closed with his backhand on his overheated forehead. His stomach is already twisting in knots, his throat closing up with a sour taste of bile in the back of his throat. He moans miserably into his pillow again as he makes a strange hiccuping belch. 

 

He groans again when Peter rushes past with that dumbass smile on his face. The smell of heavily spiced dough and sauce hits him like a tankatruck, sending his hormones haywire and no matter how big the thing inside him is, it turns against its’ mother like a vicious animal. Bucky loudly cries out as he bolts for the bathroom, ignoring Angie’s own noise of disapproval while scrambling to get the shower curtain around herself to hide the rest of her body. He feels bad, honestly, but he can’t think about that right now while he’s bent over the toilet and hugging it to his chest while he retches painfully. Angie gasps somewhere behind him. 

 

And because it isn’t bad enough that he’s currently throwing up what little of dinner he was able to eat last night and his friends were watching in an uncomfortable silence, Wade Winston Wilson - in all his bald and scarring glory - is peeking his head into the bathroom doorway holding a greasy box that sends Bucky back to heaving up bile and possibly water. “Whoa! Bucky-boo, are you okay?” he asks, leaning against the counter of the sink. The brunette glares at the man with his cheek against the cool porcelain, his hand groping for the toilet paper. He tugged it down to his mouth and wiped the traces of his sick, tearing it off and throwing it away aimlessly in the waste basket. Over him, Angie is yelling for Wade and Peter to get out so she can get dressed in peace while Bucky continues to gag. 

 

Angie crouches down next to him, laying a slender hand against the brunette's bony shoulder blades. She tsks quietly, leaning forward to press a motherly kiss on the top of his greasy head. “Oh, Bucky, what have you gotten yourself into?” she sighs, hugging him loosely while he continues to groan and gasp in the bowl that soon gets drowned out by Wade and Peter’s bickering. 

 

Everyone stops when there’s a knock on the door of the apartment, the whole place deathly silent as another knock rings out louder. The miserable omega raises his head, sniffing the air weakly with a wince. The puke is pugnant, and so is the Turkish pizza Wade brought over, but there is one scent that overcomes both those things. A scent that Bucky won't ever forget because he has just smelt it yesterday. 

  
Steve is here. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I apologize about how long this took! School is about to end and all so I'm busting my ass to study and stuff soooo 3 Thank you for sticking with me though! :)
> 
>  **WARNING** : Vomit and more discussions about abortions
> 
> Enjoy!

_**Natasha**_       10:13 am

did the directions i sent you help you find his place?

 

 _ **Steve**_       10:13 am

                                                                 Yes. I’m right outside the door right now. Stand by.

 

 _ **Natasha**_       10:14 am

good luck big daddy ;)

 

* * *

 

Steven Rogers is a very intuitive man. He knows when he's not needed or when someone is in a certain mood that would get his ass in some serious trouble if they chose to do so. Unfortunately for him, however, is that his little superpower is a curse in situations like this. 

 

Because the moment his fingertip touches the doorbell, his instincts spike very dangerously under the pressure of the protective omega pheromones emitting from the other side of the door, and the scent on an alpha. A particularly foul scented alpha whose scent seems to get even stronger by the minutes. An alpha that is in Bucky’s apartment right now. Another alpha who’s in the apartment with the _mother_ _of his child_. 

 

He can’t stop the growl that comes out of him when the door knob twists and opens, suddenly face to face with a rather particular alpha. 

 

It’s a male, smelling of sharp spice and bitter gunpowder that almost chokes Steve himself from how strong it is. He’s heavily scarred around his face, the skin puckered and waxy under the cheap lighting from the apartment complex hallway. The alpha stands with a deep frown, his hairless eyebrows pinched inward with narrowed chestnut eyes. “And who might you be?” The guy asks, looking him up and down from what little sliver he opened. 

 

Steve clears his throat, swallowing down his protective jabs because this alpha is the only one standing between him and Bucky. “I’m Dr. Steven Rogers. And you are … ?”

 

“Well isn’t that the million dollar question,” he starts, leaning against the doorway while hushed whispers emitted from inside, “If you’re asking what I am, I’m a hot alpha who can withstand quite the spanking. If you’re asking who I am, well, buddy, I’m a figment who’s character is being used for a somewhat dependant work of fiction by a teenager - as are you and everyone - but since you don’t quite know this yet, we’ll settle on Wade. Wade Wilson. Nice to meet you,” 

 

Blinking, Steve waits to see if that’s the last the other alpha is gonna say before he opens his mouth to ask if he’s allowed to see Bucky, but Wade knocks the words out of his mouth before they can get out, “You said Rogers, right? Rogers as in that guy that knocked my best friend up? Because I don’t know whether to congratulate your little Michael Phelps’ swimmers there or to put a bullet right up your main street,” 

 

“Yeah … I’m the one that got Bucky pregnant,” Steve says, eyebrows furrowing a little to try and understand the jumble of words coming right out of Wilson as he spews out more ridiculous shit. The other alpha scoffs, crossing his arms as he stares him down with protective and angry pheromones that clash against the ones that Steve is already forcing out. 

 

“Well, buddy, if you’re here to get some more ass, you’ve got another thing coming. C’mon, sweetums, let’s get going before I kick his ass,” 

 

A brunette suddenly appears from behind Wilson, adjusting thin wire glasses with a sleeve covered hand and a Bond mark perfectly displayed under the collar of his hoodie. His scent smells of Bucky, mixed with his own unique one that rivals against the gunpowder coming from Wilson. The younger male grabs onto the forearm of the taller male, tugging him forward as he ducks out with a scowl on his soft face. 

 

He straightens up, disgust painted clearly as he jabs a finger is such a manner that Natasha did on him yesterday when the bombshell landed on him. The omega growls weakly. “You fuck this up and I’ll make a necklace out of your teeth and balls,” he says quietly, then turns on his heel while trailing a shocked Wilson right behind him. 

 

The Captain swallows thickly, loosening his constricting tie as he takes a hesitant step into the apartment. It’s small, as his first step into it greets him immediately caught between the couch in front of a television on his left and a dining room table right next to a kitchen to his right. Right in front of him just past the kitchen is a large window that seems to be the most of the source of light in the small apartment, near it are two doors on opposite sides of the corner. There’s frames and things spread out all over it and even though it looks nothing like the hotel room he’s currently calling home, it feels like it is home. 

 

He clears his throat loudly, hearing a soft gasp coming from the door closest to the window. There’s a bit of chatter, the loudest being Bucky’s hoarse voice above all else. Steve’s chest squeezes at the sound. 

 

The door suddenly opens after a while, the figure of a slender female omega appears at the archway wearing only a sundress that sways whenever she moves as she bids Bucky a goodbye before turning around. And the world comes to a screeching halt. 

 

Brunette locks falling over slender shoulder and lips painted to shine in the sunlight, her body moving gracefully across the apartment with her head down. Her shoulders are tense, steps faltering as she gets closer to Steve and the ring on her left hand shimmers in the glow of a happy omega yet dulls in comparison to the woman it’s attached to. There’s a small bite near her collarbone, a mark that brings up too many painful memories that he wishes to forget - especially when the scent of sweet fruit floods the space between them. Angela looks up, light eyes widen into the size of dinner plates when she takes in Steve’s bulking appearance with a step back. Her plump and glossy lips moves around the open air uselessly. 

 

“Steve,” she says quietly, fumbling with the strap of her purse, “What .... what are you doing here?” 

 

The anger and confusions swirls in his abdomen, making his cheeks hot and his heart squeeze in his chest at the sight of the woman before him. He scoffs, licking his suddenly chapped lips. “I could ask you the same, Martinelli,” he spits it out with every last drop of venom left in him over the past few years, his scent spiking aggressively and Steve is positive that his lips are curling over to reveal his canines like his ancestors use to millions of years ago. Angela side steps him, shoulders coiling up protectively and Steve was honestly sure that he would’ve let her have it if it wasn’t for the next thing she said:

 

“It’s actually Carter now,” 

 

Angela’s breath is a tad labor, something Steve has often noticed from patients afraid to go under his knife. The anxiety and frightened pheromones is usually what makes up forty percent of the smells within the OR. And Angela is definitely executing the exact same smell, just as intense as the anger Steve is letting out. He opens his mouth, the words just about to tumble out of his tongue and hopefully striked into the heart of the young omega when the sound of painful gagging echos from the bathroom and into Steve’s ears. There’s a quiet moan, then vomit hitting the water within the bowl of what he assumes is the toilet. Angela sighs, biting her lips before she moves past Steve with the sharp clicks of her heels drowning behind the echoed heavy breathing. 

 

The door behind him firmly shuts, leaving only Steve and Bucky alone in the apartment. Walking into the bathroom as quietly as possible, the first thing he sees is the mother of his unborn cluster of cells folded over the toilet. Yet instead of being proactive, Steve freezes at the doorway as he thinks of all the things the omega must have loaded in his arsenal cocked and ready to fire. He feels horrible about what he said, especially since he remembers Natasha’s mate during his pregnancy and how he would have random breakdowns from hormones at seemingly strange times. Bucky spits into the bowl, panting loudly as he looks up at the blonde. 

 

“Fuck,” Bucky mutters, resting his forehead on the cold seat. There’s an awkward silence between them as he gags painfully with the echo of his groans filling not only the bathroom - but the rest of the apartment itself. 

 

“I know, I know,” he sighs, “I’m horrible and you have every right to be pissed at me, but we can talk about that after you’re done here,”

 

The omega goes silent then, turning his head with a pant as wet strands of brunette glue themselves to the man before him, yet nothing in his eyes said any promise about not snapping and blowing up on him at any moment he chooses. There’s a thin trail of spit on his lips, and eyes so puffy and red that it makes Steve’s heart squeeze that he did this to the poor guy. Reaching up, he flushes the toilet for the other and gathers the stray strands from Bucky’s face into a ponytail behind his head. The other doesn’t seem interested in the act, choosing to instead put his face closer into the bowl with a pinched expression on his features. 

 

He can hear Sam’s voice ringing in his ears and see the beta’s grimace if he were in this situation, complain to the blonde about how he can’t stand the scent and sight of throw up so close to him without vomiting himself, but when you’ve been a soldier and surgeon for as long as Steve has, you can’t really be fazed by this because this is just a normal day for him. Yes, surgeons practically never really talk to their patients that isn’t including explaining anything they have questions about, but Steve has had his fair share of rookie cadets emptying what rations they have at the first smell of incinerated flesh and blood on the battlefield. 

 

To say this is the most disgusting thing he’d ever had to do would be lying to himself. 

Though he does thank God when Bucky spits and leans back to sit away from the bowl, ripping some toilet paper off to clean his mouth and chin. The air is thick between them, a pregnant pause of time as the two stare at each other like they were both time bombs waiting to dedinate. Steve swallows and that breaks the spell, getting a huff from Bucky when he rises to his feet and walks over to the sink. 

 

“Go make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right out,” Bucky says, but the words drip venom and are more spat at him like the omega was telling him outright to go fuck himself. 

 

Nevertheless, Steve nods and walks out to the living room when the faucet is turned on behind him. The room is still a mix between a weird spiced concoction that has him wincing and the mixture of mated omegas with a mated alpha. It’s easy to pick up Bucky’s, having been the most addicting out of all of them without to sickly sweetness of the other omegas he can smell. Well, that and the fact that his tie from that night still lingers with the smell of Bucky’s scent when the omega grabbed it and wrapped it over his own neck with a playful smirk before landing on the bed with half-lidded drunken eyes staring up at him. 

 

Now he doubts he’ll actually get another chance to see that exact smirk. 

 

Bucky comes in a few minutes later, avoiding eye contact with the blonde as he sits himself on the plush cushions of the old couch. He sits about a good three feet of distance from Steve, hands wringing in his lap nervously like he’s almost intimidated by the alpha. The silence is starting to stretch again, and he can’t have it now because he needs to make this right. Turning to the omega, he sighs out, “Bucky,” 

 

A hum is his reply in turn, but the omega doesn’t say anything other so Steve takes it upon himself to speak. “I know that this is probably very … hard for you. I can’t even begin to imagine how scared you are right now, but what I can tell you is that I’m … I’m scared too. And I need you to understand that this isn’t me trying to excuse how shitty I was to you about the abortion thing. Sometimes my mouth talks before my brain can even catch up to it, and then I create messes like this,” Steve pauses for a moment, running his hand through his hair while leaning forward to rest his elbows on his spread knees, “I … I don’t know if Natasha told you this, but I’m a veteran. I joined the army when I was eighteen and fresh out of school. My mom worked her whole life, especially when my dad died when I was a kid and she had to raise me on her own. As a result, she couldn’t pay afford to send me to college to study medicine so I joined for the free education and some day make enough money to treat my mom like the Queen she is to me. 

 

I served and studied for about seven years, got licensed to be a surgeon and all. But then there was an accident and I … I lost everything. Bucky, I’m telling you this because even in a fucking war, this is the most scared I’ve ever been in my life,” 

 

Bucky is silent, storm raging eyes staring at the other with no emotion whatsoever crossing his features like he’s not even listening. But Steve can see the moisture building up at the edges of his eyes, the bobbing of his throat, and the way his jaw clenches to keep something inside. Steve continues; “I’m so sorry for what I said. Controlling you is the last thing I was to do, especially in something that has to be your choice completely,” 

 

The blonde reaches in his suit jacket, grabbing the envelope he made right before making his way to Bucky’s house and hopes to God this will make Bucky forgive him for being an asshat yesterday. “So, here. There’s enough money for an abortion in here if that’s what you want and I’ll even drive you to the absolute best specialist there is, or, we go to the nearest store and use the money to buy something for the baby. Or you can use it however you want because this is your choice, Bucky,” 

 

“I-I don’t-” Bucky takes in a deep breath, his voice shaky as he takes the envelope from Steve’s hand gently and lays it on his lap. His fingers twist at the corners of it, eyes so focused that the Captain was afraid that he might make it catch fire. All Steve can do right now is stay quiet, allowing the omega to come to the conclusion himself because he knows for damn sure this can’t’ be an easy decision to make. 

 

Finally, after what seems like years, Bucky raises his tear-stained face to look at Steve, “I want to keep my baby,” he says wetly, another tear sliding down his cheek, “God, I really do. But I can’t take care of it by myself. Coming to America was suppose to be so I can make a name for myself and I can’t go back home because I got fucking knocked up by the first alpha on the street after a breakup. I’m twenty-two, working for minimum wage, going to college on to-” 

 

“I’ll take care of you,” 

 

And by fucking God, the look Bucky gives him wants to make Steve track down anyone who ever dared to even say one negative fucking thing about the mother of his child and rip their tongue right out of him because the look that this beautiful and sweet man is giving him now tells him that Bucky never even thought about Steve actually staying by his side during the pregnancy if he chose to keep the baby. The anger and disbelief boils inside him, his body projecting the pheromones out into the room that mixes into all the other scents that’s floating around the room. He grabs onto Bucky’s hand, sandwiching it between his own. 

 

“I will help you, Bucky,” he promises, kissing the knuckles on the hand in his, “This is my baby too, and I want to help you in any way that I can,” 

 

It’s like a dam broke. 

 

Bucky sighs, holding the envelope to his chest now with a smile tugging at his lips, reminding Steve of the night they met. No, not the hot and drunk sex they had, but when they were sitting at the table in the dim restaurant with candles lighting up the pearly teeth and bright blue eyes of the omega as he laughs at some stupid Steve told him about traveling. The same smile that clicked in Steve’s head and stirred up the protective instincts that being an alpha would dominate in the presence of someone they know they want by their side forever. 

 

“Okay. I guess I accept your apology,” Bucky laughs, holding the envelope tight and wiping away the tears that fell down his angelic face, “I think there’s a baby store somewhere down the street,” 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay! I really got caught up in things and I couldn't really focus on this. Just a head's up, it's mainly a filler chapter until I can get into the meat of the story which should happen around chapter 9 so <3
> 
> Thank you for everyone who stick with me :) <3
> 
> Enjoy!

“What the hell are you eating?”

 

Bucky raises his eyebrow, noodles hanging from his mouth dripping sodium packed juices into his cup. It’s only been two weeks since Steve found out about their little bundle of joy on the way, and Bucky already regrets giving the alpha his house key because there hasn’t been a day since that Steve didn’t come barging in. And honestly, Bucky didn’t mind the father of his bastard child coming to check on him - really, he didn’t. It made him feel well taken care of and important.

 

But it’s twelve in the afternoon, Bucky only woke up thirty minutes ago, and he has work in a couple of hours. All this plus being pregnant kinda means he deserves to eat his damn cup of noodles without judgement from the fuck up that forgot to wear a condom.

 

“It’s ramen,” the omega deadpans, keeping eye contact as he stabs into his cup once more to gather more noodles. Steve, however, doesn’t seem to agree with his philosophy of deserving cups of this or that because the next thing Bucky is aware of, his cup is no longer in his hands and instead is inside the trash bin. “What the hell?!”

 

“What the hell?” Steve asks, face distraught in confusion and disbelief as he loosens his tie from around his Adam’s apple, “The hell is that the mother of my child deserves to be eating the finest, not some cup you can get for a dollar,”

 

“First of all, it’s sixty-seven cents. Trust me, I’m an immigrant college student. Second of all, please do explain how the fuck I’m suppose to ‘eat the finest’ if I work at an Automat, hm?”

 

The blonde just chuckles in reply, a smirk plastered on his face as he rummages through the recyclable bags he brought with him. He pauses, shrugs off his jacket and rolls his sleeves, then pulls out a can of tomato sauce and olive oil. “Well, then it’s a good thing that I’m a surgeon, isn’t it?” Steve laughs, opening the can easily with the fussy opener, “One who has Obstetrician friends who were more than happy to type up a list of off limit foods,”

 

“Here I thought the American dream was me being able to eat ramen,” Bucky sighs, leaning back in his chair to watch the alpha move around the kitchen a little too fluidly, “Besides, that was Angie’s, not mine,”

 

He must’ve struck a nerve because for a moment, Steve freezes with the wooden spoon in the pan and the immediate sour spike of pheromones filling the air between them. Bucky wrinkles his nose distastefully. It’s been about ten days since Angie actually _slept_ in the apartment, only ever coming over twice to grab a change of clothes and not once looking at Bucky as she hurries past with a duffle bag slung on her shoulder. In fact, even though she went through extreme measures to avoid Steve, the alpha always seems to pick up her scent afterwards and leaves him in a pretty sour mood for his entire visit (which lately has been for a few more hours than Bucky preferred). In the span of a few weeks, Bucky has only seen Angie enter the apartment maybe three times with a duffle bag slung over her shoulder and wearing a violet ratty old T-shirt with the letters _NYU_ stated proudly on the obscure lines of her breasts. She’d pass by him quickly, pressing an attempt of a kiss on his head, then rush into her room to grab more of her clothes, and leave with a muttered, “See you later,” as the last ringing thing to mark her existence in the room seconds prior.

 

So when the omega notices the sudden tense stance and firm grip on the wooden spoon, he folds his fingers under his chin oh-so-Shirley-Temple and decides that today, he was going to be an asshole.

 

“She isn’t Voldemort, we can say her name,” he smirks, watching the muscles straining against Steve’s shirt with curiosity when they pop under his shirt, “Unless, there’s something wrong with that?”

 

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Steve grunts out with false glee, “She’s your friend. You can talk about her all you want for all I care, chew my ear off, _whatever_ ,”

 

“Uh-huh,” Bucky kicks out one of the chairs towards Steve, the inviting knitted pillow on the seat seeming like it's own entity between the two, “Okay then, I want to talk all about my best friend, Angela Martinelli,”

 

The alpha didn’t seem to like this new change of events if the deep sigh was anything to go by. The water hasn’t started boiling yet and the sauce does need to simmer for a bit, so there really is no reason for the blonde to not pull up on the chair and listen to Bucky poke at all his shiny mysterious buttons. When Steve doesn’t answer him, the brunette leans against the back of his chair and crosses his arms, “Oh, where do I even begin? Let’s see, let’s see … “ and then, he proceeds to waste a good thirty minutes of the miserable bastard’s life with almost excruciating detail every little fun fact about Angie that he knows. He tells him about the Fish Taco Fiasco, and the time she accidently mixed salt into her smoothie at work, and the many pre-audition traditions she goes through, and so much more. He’s pretty sure half of them are made up, but the tightening of Steve’s jaw is enough for him to keep going.

 

Right up until he got to Peggy.

 

“God, I mean, I never met the woman but from what Angie tells me, she’s really fucking great in the sack. She has this move where sh-”

 

“ _Shut the fuck up right now_ ,” Steve honest-to-god growls, one of those possessive ones that jealous Alphas get. If Bucky were a fool, he would’ve thought that it was because he was describing someone better at sex than Steve, but the truth of the matter is that it had nothing to do with _Bucky_ . “I know what you’re doing, so _drop_ it. We don’t know each other well enough for me to tell you, and I would _appreciate_ it if you stopped,”

 

“But-”

 

“Drop. It.” and that’s the end of that.

 

They eat in silence after the pasta is made, the only sound being the scraping of forks on the porcelain dishes. The air is tense around them and the constant buzzing of Steve’s unanswered phone becomes a welcomed droning in the background. The meal is over before no time at all and Steve picks up with plates without another glance at Bucky to put them in the sink to soak. He then folds up the canvas bag he brought the ingredients in, marches towards the door only to lean on the frame with a sigh just as Bucky was getting up.

 

“So, are you coming?”

 

Bucky doesn’t answer at first, raising an eyebrow at him. “For what?”

 

“Get your coat, we’re going baby shopping,”

 

“I’m only four weeks, I think we have time,”

 

The alpha chuckles, “C’mon, let me spoil the little guy a little,” he says as he’s cupping his hands over the flat surface of Bucky’s hips, a soft smile on his lips as his thumb softly caresses the skin protecting the poppy seed sized embryo. “I meant what I said, Bucky. I’ve been waiting a long time for this,”

 

Bucky sighs, scratching the back of his neck as he thinks about the classes he has today. He probably shouldn’t miss his math class, especially with this new lesson that’s starting this week involving civil engineering. There wasn’t required attendance, so maybe he can get notes from Daisy in class? He hasn’t really missed a class since coming to America, it wouldn’t hurt to miss a class. He was about to answer when Steve’s hands migrate to embrace the omega’s waist and says, “I’ve already got a room at my loft picked out for him. It’s got a great view of New York and it’s perfect for a kid. Please?”

 

“Alright, alright,” Bucky sighs, “But you’re dropping me off straight at work when we’re done!”

 

“Deal,”

  


The car that Steve arrived in was no doubt a company car, with sleek black paint and a symbol on the hood that Bucky doesn’t recognize but knows that it's expensive. It’s not the one that he had when they met, so it’s safe to assume that it was probably a company car too. The leather inside smelled new and pristine, firm and taut under his weight as Bucky slipped into the passenger seat next to Steve. The alpha leans back on his seat, fastening his seatbelt and flashing a smile to the omega. “Buckle up,”

 

“This is probably the fanciest car I’ve ever been in,” Bucky whistles, looking around and behind him to really get an idea of just how fancy it is. Not a single stain, scratch, or piece of trash. “God, are you some kind of drug dealer?”

 

Steve laughs, starting the car and peeling out of the parking spot, “Nah, I’m allergic to most drugs, even the good kind. I gotta admit, I hate these cars but I kinda wanted to show off a little,” he smiles, “I’m a neurosurgeon at the new hospital in Manhattan,” he explains, shooting a glance at Bucky as he taps the bright blue permit handing from the rearview mirror. “You’ve been there, remember? You threw the pregnancy test at me,”

 

“Oh, yeah. Sorry about that. I was kinda angry,”

 

“I deserved it,” he says, looking over his shoulder to merge into the lane, “You gave Stark a really good laugh too,”

 

If Bucky had been the one driving, he imagined himself slamming on the brakes hard enough to cause whiplash. It can’t be The Tony Stark of Stark Industries that is one of the most powerful men in the entire world with a net worth is around $12.4 billion. Hell, probably more now that he made that deal with King T’challa with Wakanda’s mass deposits of vibranium. God, Bucky would kill to work for his company one day. There is no way a neurosurgeon would know a billionaire with a technological company.

 

“I-I’m sorry, I thought you said Stark as in Tony Stark,”

 

“Yeah, that’s him. He’s opening a hospital - Maria Stark Hospital. I’m going to be a head of neurosurgery when it opens in a few weeks,” Steve explains, settling into the driver’s seat with incredible ease, “Natasha is on the staff too, she didn’t tell you?”

 

“Fuck no! All I know is that she got a new security job, not that she’s going to work for Tony fucking Stark!”

 

“It’s not that big of deal, Bucky. He’s just a person-”

 

“-with an insane amount of cash-”

 

“-that I get a cut of for my average of $767,627 a year salary,”

 

“Haaa, don’t remind me that I only make $7.25 an hour on minimum wage,” Bucky chuckles flatly, subconsciously rubbing the flat surface of his stomach, “Jesus, that’s a shit ton of money,”

 

Steve shrugs, sighing softly as an expression of ease rather than frustration, “I make amazing money, Bucky, so don’t ever hesitate to ask me for things. Anything. Baby related or not,” the alpha says, moving his hand to rest on the brunette’s knee to give a gentle squeeze.

 

Before Bucky could reply, the car is stopping in front of a section of shops on a cute little sidewalk with a light color scheme blending in with thin women walking along with shopping bags hanging on their hands. They get out and put money into the meter, standing right outside the little baby shop with the pastel colors that compliment the other Mom n’ Pop shops surrounding it. It’s not really a place Bucky expected Steve to want to go to, but it’s so motherfucking adorable that he doesn’t even question it as they walk in and announce their arrival with a jingle of a bell.

 

“Welcome!,” a blonde woman with chocolate eyes says from her spot near a shelf, a yellow and pink apron tied around her waist and a wicker basket with stuffed animals on her hip, “Oh, Steve! I didn’t even notice it was you!”

 

She smells light and bubbly, her obvious omega scent actually comforting Bucky’s sensitive nose rather than turning his stomach violently enough to make him throw up. The woman sends down her basket on a small plastic table marked in crayons and approaches Steve with a familiar hug, her hands flat against his back and slowly sways the two of them playfully.  “Wow! I haven’t seen you in so long! How are you?”

 

Steve chuckles deep in his throat, the sound warm and inviting. “God, I’ve missed you, Sharon,” he smiles, patting her shoulder as she steps back, “I’ve been great. I got a great job working with your cousin at the new hospital,”

 

“Oh! She told me that,” the woman - Sharon - hums, “She also told me about a little something else too. Are you doing to introduce us?”

 

The attention is suddenly back on Bucky, all eyes pointed at him standing in the shop with a handmade stuffed animal just under his fingertips to feel the soft fur. Steve smiles, wrapping a protective arm around the omega’s shoulders with a strong squeeze. “I’m sorry, where are my manners? This is Bucky, my … good friend,”

 

“...Who’s also pregnant with Steve’s baby,” he adds in unhelpfully, pausing for a brief moment before nervously chuckling towards the ground and muttering, “I don’t know why I talk,”

 

Steve clears his throat, and shoves his free hand into the pocket of his slacks. “Yeah, we’re, uh, going to have a baby, and I really wanted to buy all the stuff here since you’ve always had nice things,”

 

Sharon smiles softly, a hint of sadness playing on glossy lips, “Of course, Steve. Do you want me to pull up the registry from …?”

“That- that won’t be necessary,” the alpha waves her off, pressing a light kiss onto Bucky’s head with a small shake of the arm around the omega’s shoulders, “I want to start new and I want the mother of my child to decide on some of the things,”

 

“Of course! Well, I’ll be right here if you guys need me,”

 

“Oh, Sharon, is it possible if you make the registry for us? The baby isn’t due for another eight months and my loft isn’t really renovated yet, so,”

 

“Totally. I just need both your full names,” she pulls out a notebook with stickers and a spiral spine, a ballpoint pen scratching on a new page with the words ‘Steven Rogers’ in fancy cursive before stopping to look up at him, “Full name?”

 

“Oh, um, James Barnes,” Bucky hums, distracted by handstitched onesies that are too absolutely adorable. Like who the fuck wants to dress their baby up as a vintage sailor? Bucky, that’s who the fuck. He imagines his little baby boy, a fist being gnawed on with toothless gums as the omega holds him up to keep his baby’s head from flopping around, and on his little fat body is the damn blue vintage sailor onesie and the son of a bitch has a tiny hat to match.

 

“Buck? You still with us?” Steve snaps him out of his head, holding a shopping basket on the innerside of his elbow with small smiling Statue of Liberty cartoon nightlight inside. Bucky cranes his neck to get a closer look, a disgusted scrunch of his nose when he spots it.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here, but what the hell is that?”

 

“What, you don’t like it?

 

“Well, I thought we were expecting a baby, not Uncle Sam,”

 

The alpha bumps his shoulder with Bucky’s, pulling out the nightlight with a pout, “Aw c’mon, it’s cute! I was in the military, you moved to America, our baby was conceived in New York, it’s perfect!” he says, spinning it in his hand as if it would convince the omega, “You know you want it. She’s going to protect our baby with her torch to chase off the monsters in the closets!”

 

“Fine, fine, get that monstrosity of a nightlight but I get to pick the diaper bag,” Bucky rolls his eyes, hopping over to the wall displaying all the different kinds of bags in all sorts of designs and colors. The one that really catches his eyes is a gorgeous brown bag with giraffe spots on the opening and on the top of the pockets, a mommy giraffe with a baby giraffe. “And I love this one,”

 

“That’s one of the cheapest ones here, Bucky,”

 

“Stop it before I marry it, it’s perfect,” he smiles, picking it up and making a pleasant happy noise as he holds it with both hands. “Momma giraffe and baby giraffe,”

 

“You like giraffes?”

 

“No, they’re too tall and I don’t trust anyone taller than me,”

 

“Buck, I’m at least four inches taller than you,”

 

“Yeah and the last time I trusted you, I got pregnant, so,”

 

“... Okay, I get what you mean. How about the furniture?”

 

They spend at least two to three hours going around the shop, arguing over what kind of crib or changing table was perfect for the baby. Bucky’s idea of furniture was to stick to a neutral color with the lowest price there is, yet Steve’s idea was for a more expensive set with colors that complimented each other rather than just the same monochrome scheme like the ones that Bucky keeps picking out. The final result was a furniture set of white painted wood mixed with the odd light gray small addition such as a laundry basket of white wicker with the light gray cloth inside, things like that. They also stock up on essential bath products and grooming supplies (“Steve. Steve. _Steve_ . Look how _tiny_ these nail clippers are!”), though the one thing that Bucky was really excited for was the rocking chair they picked out. It looked like a normal white armchair with three skinny light brown stripes down the middle of the back and the cushion. The whole thing was on two curved planks of wood that allowed for it to shift and rock steadily.

 

By the time they were done, they had selected most of the nursery and personal items for their little poppyseed. Sharon laughs when she seems how much things they had gathered between the two of them, especially when she came across the Statue of Liberty nightlight at the very bottom of the basket. “This one is better than that weird superhero one that you picked out last time,” she smiles, writing down all the information under both their names and putting them back in the basket, “Wow, look at you. Getting all grown up with a little family of your own,”

 

“Yeah,” he sighs, “Finally, huh?”

 

Sharon processes the things quicker than Bucky expected, looking up at the both of them from under blonde lashes with a sly tilt in her smile as she passed Steve a slip of paper with their registry information on it.

 

They’re half way out of the parking spot when the omega checks his phone. His shift hasn’t started yet, which gives him enough time to get there and put on his uniform really quickly in the bathroom of the automat before getting to work, but he didn’t really expect to see that he has an unread message.

 

_**Angie**    _ _1:04 PM_

 

_Please tell the manager that I won’t be going to work today. Thank you._

  


“Fuck,” Bucky sighs, “She’s really avoiding me,”

 

“Who?”

 

The omega hesitates for a moment, laying back in his seat, “It’s Angie,” he groans it out with a voice that sounded more exhausted than he even expected from himself, “I’m sorry, I won’t bring her up again,”

 

“No, no, please, tell me about it,” Steve reaches his hand over to grab onto Bucky’s hand, his thumb rubbing small circles over the knuckles lightly, “If it bothers you, you can tell me about it,”

 

There’s a silence that falls over him, but it wasn’t an awkward one as a more comforting one filled with a welcoming scent coming off of the alpha next to him. His hand is warm on his, the blonde’s fingers idly playing and caressing the skin with small circles, and Bucky can’t really explain it, but butterflies flutter in his stomach as his cheeks heat up as the random thought of _oh, I feel loved_ comes to mind. Steve doesn’t notice, letting the sun and the absolute radiance of an alpha completely drown him in a low glow that was like the charming princes from his story books as a child. “It’s alright,” he breathes, “It’ll blow over soon anyway,”

 

Not before long, they’re stopping in the small parking lot near the L&L Automat where the Steve puts the car in parking and leaning back to comfortably rub his hands on his slacks that the younger male smiles to himself about the absolute normality of the Prince Charming before him. “Thanks for dropping me off,” the brunette smiles tenderly, suddenly shy when not two hours ago he was ready to rip Steve’s head off his shoulders, “And … Steve?”

 

“Yeah, James?”

 

Bucky’s smile widens, “Ew, don’t call me that! It’s was my grandpa’s name,” he unbuckles himself slowly, letting the seatbelt rub inside his hand as it retracts, “And I just wanted to apologize for earlier. I didn’t mean to make you mad, I just … Angie is my best friend and I really want everyone in my life to get along, but … I understand that you want to have your privacy,”

 

Steve bites his lip and brings his other hand over to completely engulf the hand he was already holding, pressing his lips to the knuckles on that hand. “I promise you … that I will tell you everything one day. I want to start fresh, and I can’t thank you enough for that opportunity. I promise,”

 

The two nod to one another, an understanding between them that Bucky feels immediately and returns it with a soft hum. But the minutes tick by without consideration to their moment, so with a heavy heart he slips his hand away from Steve’s and grabs his backpack from the back seats. The doors unlock automatically when he opens the door, letting him give one last glance at the alpha’s relaxed posture with his white button down sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the few buttons from the collar unfastened, hands on his thighs that looks just as inviting as when he first met him.

 

Just as he was getting out of the car, however, he stops with one foot outside and leans over the center console to press a quick kiss to the corner of Steve’s mouth. “Thank you,” the omega whispers, rubbing the area delicately with the tip of his finger, “See you later, Steve,”

 

He’s about to finally get out, but a hand presses onto his jaw and brings his head back to face the older alpha who brings him into a full kiss that lasts all but five seconds of fluttered eyelashes and soft lips before breaking apart with a muted click that fills his stomach with those butterflies again. “See you later, James,” Steve says as he leans back.

 

Standing on the sidewalk in front of the diner, bathed in the chrome and mint of the entrance, Bucky watches the black car speed onto the road with a honk and almost bursts like a teenager watching his first boyfriend ride away on a motorcycle that growls as it speeds off. The car is soon out of sight and Bucky walks into the diner whose bell chimes just as the one at Sharon’s baby boutique did, immediately face to face with Peter leaning with one hand on the counter sporting a shit-eating grin.

 

“Wow,” he laughs, picking up a cup from behind him and drying it with the cloth that was draped over his shoulder, “He must be really great in bed,”

 

“Shut up,”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments make me churn out more chapters (not well written)! <3 
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr at nerd-of-the-world for updates or to just say hello! :)


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